
Glass PS 63^ 
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AMERICAN 



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DRAMATIC LIBRARY. 



COMPRISING 

ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS, 
BIANCA VISCONTI, 
TORTESA THE USURER. 



NEW YORK: 
JAMES P. GIFFING» 

56 Oold-Street. 



#1 






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ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 



ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS 






BY RUFUS DAWES. 



NEW-YORK: 

PUBLISHED BY SAMUEL COLMAN. 

1839. 



51260 

Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by 

S. COLMAN, 

in the Clork*s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the 

Southern District of New- York. 



G. F. Hopkins, Printer, 2 Ann-streets 



^^' " '^''^<?^> 




PUBLISHER'S ADVERTISEMENT. 

Athenia of Damascus is the first of a series, which will be 
continued, if sufficient encouragement is afforded. In se- 
lecting for the Dramatic Library, none but the finest pro- 
ductions will be approved ; and those best suited to impart 
instruction while they afford amusement, will be preferred. 

The second number will contain Bianca Visconti, by N. 
R Willis. 

It is believed that much native genius, now in obscurity, 
would be introduced to the public, if this enterprise is suc- 
cessful. 

New- York, January, 1839. 



DRAMATIC PERSONS. 



EuPHRON, Prefect of Damascus, 

Calous, Syrian leader, 

LxrcRETius, A distinguished citizen, 

Decius, a Senator. 

Kaled, Saracen chief, 

Abdallah, His Lieutenant. 

Dera, a Saracen officer. 

Athenia, Daughter of Euphron, 

Ada, Her attendant. 

Ophira, a Syrian woman. 

Senators, Syrian and Arabian soldiers, Messenger, Grecian 
captive, People of Damascus. 

The scene lies in the Ager Damascenus, and in the City of 
Damascus, at the close of the siege A. D. 634. 



ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 



ACT L 
SCENE I. 

A street in Damascus, — Time, sunrise. 
Enter Lucretius and Decius. 

DECIUS. 

And is there then no hope, Lucretius 1 

LUCRETIUS. 

Yes, such as looks from out the headsman's eye, 
When the axe gleams before a malefactor. 

DECIUS. 

What's to be donel 

LUCRETIUS. 

Murder and sacrilege ! 



# 



12 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT T. 

DECIUS. 

And then to starve ! 

LUCKETIXJS. 

What can the Emperor mean.] 
Surely, the fate of Bozra might have waked 
The boa from his slumber, — but he lies 
Gorged with his Persian victories, as if 
Sleep were the best security. 

DECIUS. 

Heaven's wrath 
Unvials on the earth — the plagues are out 
For Syria's overthrow. 

LUCRETIUS. 

It is but just ; 



We have offended Heaven ! 

DECIUS. 

But know you not, 
Heraclius is entreated for our aid ? 

LUCRETIUS. 

What signifies his aid at such a pass. 
When like the scorpion, we are gird Jed in, 
And scorqhed to suicide 1 To hear these wolves 
Howl for their Paradise ! as if the wretch 
That fixed the seal of hell upon their foreheads, 
Would cheat that hell of its own sensual slaves ! 



♦. 

SCENE I.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. . 13 

DECIUS. 

It is a weary siege ! — Damascus reels 
Even to her downfall. Should Heraclius fail 
To send us speedy succour, we are lost. 

LUCRETIUS. 

What say the Senate 1 Have you yet proclaimed 
Last night's determination] 

DECIUS. 

When retired, 
We were again convoked to meet at sunrise ; 
Caloiis is summoned to the council room, 
For some important matter. 

LUCRETIUS. 

Heaven forefend 
Greater calamity ! — the times are bad 
When soldiers prompt the Senate. 

DECTUS. 

Were you going 
On to the Senate-House, Lucretius ] 



LUCRETIUS. 
DECIUS. 

Let us then go together, — 'tis so dull 
In such a time to be companionless I 

2 



Yes. 



[Exeunt, 



t 



14 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT I. 



SCENE IL 

Tke senate-Jiouse; Euphron, Decius, and other Senators seated, 
Calous standing in the back ground, 

EUPHRON. 

Fathers, I have convoked you at this hour, 

To reconsider last night's resolution. 

There have been spies on your deliberations. 

The morning v^atch challenged a cowled foe, 

Vf ho shouted ' Allah Akbar /' and escaped 

On wings of lightning. We have tracked his path 

Even from this chamber, where he must have lain 

Treacherously hidden : Howe'er that be. 

Our weakness is betrayed. It now remains 

To scan our desperate purpose. Senators, 

Let us receive your views in this emergence : 

Only remember, moments now are hours. 

DECIUS. 

I see no reason, in this foul mischance. 
Which scourges so our negligence, that we 
Should change the resolution we have made. 
It is impossible for us to hold 
The city two days more : — we starve already, 
Though the extent of her necessity, 
Damascus does not know ; — she little dreams 



# 



SCENE II.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 

How certain is her ruin. I advise, 
Even as I did last night, to sue for peace, 
And leave the rest to Heaven. 

EUPHRON. 

Let him who controverts what Decius says, 
Speak to the Senate. 

(A pause,) 
Have you all one mind ] - 
Know then — I summoned Calo'ds among you. 
In apprehension of this same restraint : 
For in a matter of such deep concern, 
A soldier's sphere may stir the stagnant blood, 
And give it healthy action. Caloiis, speak, 
The Senate asks your free, untrammelled mind ! 

( Cdtous comes forward, ) 

CALOUS. 

For this unusual honour — had I power 
Commensurate with gratitude, Fd bear. 
Most willingly, the weight of all your woes. 
But, conscript fathers ! all I have is yours, 
A life devoted to the public weal. 
In early days, midst Rome's exalted pride, 
'Twas deemed no mean occasion to decree 
The highest honour that a soldier loves. 
That he did not despair of the Republic. 
For me — I hold no commerce with despair. 



15 



1^ ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT I. 

Damascus may be, shall be free again. 
Could I have had a voice with yours, last night, 
I had protested strongly 'gainst your vote. 
Do ye not know, that they who sue for peace 
To such a foe as ours, can hope no more 1 
Had they one christian feeling like our own, 
Some bond of human brotherhood that extends 
Self-love unto a neighbour, then indeed. 
The dove might bear the olive-bough to them ; 
Not now ; — no, fathers ! we must fight or die ! 
And better to do both, to fight and die> 
Than sue to them for peace.. 

No, conscript fathers ! 
They have forestalled your purpose ; — it is well. 
Your chances of success are multiplied ; 
Even now, while they expect your suppliant suit, 
Astonish their base hopes, — and when the bell 
Strikes as a signal, let the ready gates 
Pour out a flood of war upon their camp, 
And crush them with its weight. Meanwhile, perhaps, 
The imperial forces may fresh succour bring, 
And seal our great endeavour to be free. 
Fathers ! I am for liberty or death. 

EUPHRON. 

We thank thee, Caloiis ; — Senators, you hear : 

Shall we adopt our counsellor's advice; 

Say ; shall the vote be, — "liberty or death ]" 



ill' 

SCENE II.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 17 

SEVERAL VOICES, 

Death or libefty ! — Liberty forever I 

EI7PHR0N. 

'Tis done : — and when the dial feels the sun 
Steal o'er the hour of noon, — let the great bell 
Strike from the Martyr's Tower for liberty ! 
When next we meet, may peace be with Damascus. 

( The Senators rise and disperse — Euphron follows CaloiXs.) 

EUPHRON. 

Soldier ! one moment, ere you quit this room. 

CALOUS. 

I wait your pleasure — but be brief, I pray you. 
We have no leisure now for idleness. 

EITPHRON. 

Athenia ! — 

CALOUS. 

Is't then of her you'd speak? 

EUPHRON. 

It may seem strange, in times of such calamity, 
To mingle private thoughts with public business ; — 
But there are secret springs within the breast, 
Which when disordered, clog the whole machine. 
You love Athenia I 

2* 



m 



18 ATHENIA OF nAMASCUS. [aCT I. 

CALOUS. 

If ever man loved vs^oman. ' 

ETJFHRON. 

Calous, you have a treasure in that heart, 
Of golden fruit, that Croesus had not bought, 
Though he had he^vn his Lydian mountains down, 
And turned Pactolus from his shining sands. 
To bribe the Hesperian dragon. Yet you deem 
Your love equivalent to such a gain ! 

CALOUS. 

If ever such unworthy thought were mine, 
How could I know the happiness of loving 1 
A heart that feels the immortal glow of lovej 
Knows no such selfishness. 

EUPHRON. 

Your mutual hopes 
Have long been known to me ; but if you think 
To wed my daughter, you must give me proof. 
Like Curtius, who vTould leap within the gulf 
His country wished to close: -—and could'st thou stand 
O'er such a verge as that which Marcus saw 
Before assembled Rome, and plunge within, 
Reckless of all things but the public good ? — 

CALOUS. 

Ay ; though it were to grapple with the Sphinx, 



SCENE IL] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 19 

Or headlong dive where Typhon breathes the fires, 
Locked in his rock-ribbed sepulchre ; — so long 
As Honour points the way, and Love's fair hand 
Beckons me onward — name the desperate deed, 
And for the heavenly guerdon promised me, 
The Fates shall bow before ennobling willy 
And resolution o'erleap destiny ! 

EUPHRON* 

And could you bear the hisses of the people, 
The execrations of distempered men. 
For making some unheard-of sacrifice 1 
Say, could you immolate a noble name, 
But for a day — forego your reputation — 
Assume the villain — wear a traitor's mask — 
Bring down a hundred thousand human curses. 
Within an hour, on your devoted head. 
And all to wed Athenia] 

CALOUS. 

Senator! 
Well might I say I'd grapple with the Sphinx, 
For never did Cimmerian riddle wear 
So dark an aspect — prithee, sir, explain ! 

EUPHEON. 

What if the popular breath should damn the sun, 
In his meridian glory — do'st thou think. 
His beams would fall less brightly ] 



20 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT I. 

CALOUS. 

And what then'? 

EUPHRON. 

Reputation is but idle wind 
Blown against character^ which when unstained, 
With an immortal vigour may upbear 
Against the slanderous world its angel face, 
And fix its gaze on Heaven I 

CALOUS. 

Let me drink 
The Clarian waters that invest thy soul. 
Though I imbibe my death ! unlock the spring — 
And if the revelation blanch my cheek, 
The Sibyl whisper must propound some deed, 
Too horrible for human utterance. 

(Euphron whispers Mm.) 

CALOUS. 

What do you mean, my lord 1 

EUPHRQN. 

Patience ! 
( Whispers again.) 
Now dar'st thou do this thing] — 

CALOUS* 

I am a very coward in all deeds 



SCENE IL] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 21 

Where honour dares not mingle. — No ! I dare not ! 

EUPHRON. 

Yet the archangel when he folds his wings, 
Veils, not destroys, his glory ; tJdnk of this. 

CALOUS. 

My lord, I cannot think of degradation. 

And link the foul imagination, too, 

With the immaculate image of my love — 

Nature revolts at such dire contraries. 

Methinks you task my virtue in strange wise ; 

Or standing in such delicate relation 

To my respect and sufferance — you presume 

More than becomes you, to inflict on one 

Disarmed by his affections, and your own ! 

EIJPHRON. 

Were my intent dishonourable, Caloiis ! 

Thy serpent-twisted armour would strike dead 

The base assailant of thy character — 

But I would build up honour for thy name. 

And make thee heir to higher, richer treasure, 

Than the sun -worshipper of Persia lost,. 

If thou wouldst only reach thy hand to take it ! 

CALOUS. 

I have the senate's mandate on my mind — 
The legions wait my presence. 



22 



ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 



[act I. 



(Shouts of '' Liberty forever r^ without.) 
The senate's last decree has found a tongue 
In every heart — and " Liberty forever /" 
Rings through the iron phalanx, and inflames 
With heavenly ardour ; — welcome, oh, thrice v^elcome 
Death-daring Hope ! — Shout, shout again, brave soldiers ; 
Your eagles strain their golden wings once more 
For victory — and the red vultures cleanse 
Their clotted beaks to banquet on the foe ! 

EUPHRON. 

Onward to battle then, for liberty ! 

CALQUS. 

For liberty ! [Exeunt, 

SCENE IIL 

An apartment in Euphroii's house. Athenia and Ada. 



ATHENIA* 

Poor sufferers ! would that my means were greater ! 

ADA. 

They were so grateful, lady, that their tears 
Mixed with their supplications for thy blessing. 
I could not help weeping to see them weep. 



SCENE III.] A THENIAOF DAMASCUS. 23 

ATHENIA. 

Oh, my poor bleeding country ! for thy sins, 
How terrible this judgement of high Heaven ! — 
They were all fed, and well provided, Ada ! 

ADA. 

Yes ; but the little infant that you saw, 
Died at its mother's breast — and would you think it 1 
The mother laughed out loud — weeping and laughing — 
And then she shuddered so, in anguish, lady, 
I ran and brought the pretty flowing mantle 
You gave me on my birth-day, which she took, 
And, sighing, folded round her lifeless child : — 
It was a trifling present — nay, not so — 
Yet, pardon me — look, here she comes again ! 
(Enter OpJiira,) 

ATHENIA. 

Merciful Heaven ! what a sight is this ! 

OPHIRA. 

Hush ! — sh ! you will wake my child — so ! softly I softly ! 
We-shall have food enough when the moon changes — 
They say the grave is not so cold neither ! — 

ATHENIA. 

What wouldst thou have, thou poor unfortunate ! 

OPHIRA. 

Only a little food while my child dies ! — 



24 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT I. 

For mercy, charity ! — hush ! — sh ! — I am coming — 
Wait awhile — wait awhile — we'll bury this first — 
And then — keep off thy hand, base Saracen ! 
He is my husband — do not kill him ! — monster ! 
Right through his heart ! murder ! help ! Christians, help ! 

[Ruslies out 

ATHENIA. 

Spirit of holiness ! dove of the hallowed ark ! 
That bears the sinking soul above the tide, 
Come with the olive-blooming harbinger 
Of meek-eyed Peace, and midst the spirit's strife, 
Bend once again thy rainbow o'er the storm ! — 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. 

An opening in a range of mountains^ (tJie Lihanus.) The river 
Barrady breaking out from the opening — Damascus in the 
distance with gardens, A high precipitous rock surmounted 
by a castle overhanging the river. The scene lies below in 
the Ager Damascenus, The tent of Kaled discovered. Time, 
sunrise — the sun gilding the spires of the city, Kaled and 
Dera outside the tent, 

DERA. 

Thus far has Allah blest us — praised be Allah ! 
Scarce had I left the infidel's abode, 



SCENE IV.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. . 25 

Fit paradise for dew-eyed luxury, 

When the bright morning spread her T3rrian wings, 

And waked the slumbering echoes : — I have passed 

A night of danger — thrice along the walls 

The Ijmx-eyed sentinel his challenge sent, 

And twice was it eluded — one alone 

Suspected my great purpose — but I hurled 

Defiance in his teeth, and here 1 am. 

KALED. 

Well Dera, with thy business ! — 

DERA. 

Sleep had fled 
The fearful people — o'er their pallid brows 
The night-torch spread a hue of ghastliness — 
Some bowed themselves in tears, and kissed the cross, 
While I stood by and smiled : — 'Twas murmured there, 
The trunkless head of one they call divine, 
Parted its bloodless lips and whispered " wo ! " — 
At length I gained the council of their chiefs. 
Who wearied out the watches of the night. 
And heard their resolution — pinched to death 
By famine — rent by civil broils, and foes 
Who mask themselves in dark hypocrisy — 
They have resolved to sue to thee for peace. 

KALED. 

Then will they sue the hungry lion's mercy — 
3 



26 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [A€T I- 

For by the shrine of Mecca, ere the sun 
Shall gild again these lofty mountain tops, 
I'll feast upon the bloodless heart of Syria, 
And crown the eldest daughter of the world, 
In mockery of herself : — How proudly now, 
She lifts her conscious beauty to the skies. 
Careless of ruin ! — Thou hast ever been 
The spot where Nature dimpled into smiles ; 
Fit residence for dark-eyed messengers. 
Who bear the mandates of eternal God. 
Thou art too fair for Christian dogs to inhabit ; 
Thou whom Mohammed loved, and loving, feared. 
Amidst thy sweet seductions — while his work 
On earth remained — exposed to earth's corruption. 
The altars which disgrace thee shall be razed. 
With all their countless, false divinities. 
And thou shalt forge the thunder-bolts of wo 
For thine own ruin — and this day shall build 
A monument to Abubekir's name. 
Which shall not crumble — be we only just, 
And faithful to our cause. 

DERA. 

When Kaled speaks. 
The sword of Allah leaps to Victory ! 

KALED. 

Nay, scourge of Christians ! keep thy honied words 



SCENE IV.J ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 27 

To recreate a mistress — we have need 

Of action, or our scimitars will rust : — 

I charge thee, Dera, for this last assault ; 

ISee every man be ready ; when the sun 

Shall call to morning prayer — the Prophet's hour 

Of certain victory — one sudden burst 

Shall overwhelm the city ; — though I w^ould, 

If possible, preserve so fair a place, 

That Abubekir might repose his age 

Among its pleasant gardens ; — but 'tis written ! 

DEKA. 

My bosom burns to pay the Christian dogs 
The debt I owe their coward treachery. 

KALED. 

Hope is a willing slave — despair is free — 

So shall Damascus gird her iron on. 

In desperate resistance — but her doom 

Is registered in those black leaves of fate. 

Which Allah reads in Heaven — while men tremble. 

Enter Abdallah. 
Worthy Abdallah ! may the Prophet's blessing, 
And Abubekir's honours rest upon thee ! 
What think'st thou, soldier, shall we carry home 
A glittering tribute and a few poor rags. 
To grace our triumph in the Caliph's eyes — 
Shall we, who sacked the Bassora, and upraised 



28 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT I. 

The Sanjeak-sherifFon the Christian walls 

Of many a leagured town, now leave Damascus 1 

No ! by Medina, I will storm her citadel — 

Exterminate her people, and wring out ^ 

The last red drop that gives a Christian life : — 

The treacherous infidel 1 was't not enough 

To parley with foul thoughts, when victory hung 

Triumphantly upon the Moslem side. 

And tempt my life by stratagem ! — Enough — 

Speak, my lieutenant, I would take thy counsel ; 

(Aside.) So it accord with my fixed resolution. 

ABDALLAH. 

Sword of God ! — 

The tongue of wisdom lies behind her heart ; — 

This world is but the shadow of a cloud — 

A dream of troubled sleep : were I to seek 

So much thy friendship^ as the way of right, 

I would not think so loudly as I do ; — 

But when I cease to do the high behest 

Of Allah — when my heavenly leader sho^vs 

The way of duty, and I cease to follow. 

Then may the angel of relentless death 

Bear me to judgement. — Kaled, I protest 

Against thy dark design ; — our swords were sent 

In the high cause of Allah, to persuade> 

Or force, if necessary, every one 

Who bows to Christ, to leave his impious faith, 



SCENE IV.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 29 

And follow all the Koran's sacred laws ; '— 
Why should we scatter death so needlessly? — 

KALED. 

You talk like one that has not been abused ; 
Half Christian, by my faith ! and would you turn 
Like one contemned, to beg for more contempt 1 
This is to be a Christian ; — fie, Abdallah ! 
I thought you cherished more of manliness ! 

ABDALLAH. 

When Abubekir gave the sword to you. 
And took from me the standard, which you bear, 
Though I acknowledged your superior power, 
And followed you as leader, do not think 
I acted so from love of degradation ! 
Had I been so ambitious — like the orb 
Which wears our silver crescent in the sky, 
I could have thrown a shadow o'er your glory ; — 
I thought you w^orthy, but I find you not; — 
Nor brave, as once I held you ; though you frown. 
And chafe, and rage — I still will stand unmoved, 
And tax you with this weakness. Do not think 
To scare me with your wrath — what though you smote 
Moseilam with the spear that Hamza slew. 
And sealed Mohammed's favour ? — It was I 
Who stood the Prophet's witness here below,— 
'Twas I unfurled the sacred banner first, 
3* 



30 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT I. 

And fought its holy battles — ever ready, 
As now, to die, ere it shall be polluted ! 

KALED. 

It is not meet that one the Prophet loved. 
Should rouse my anger — else, vt^ould I — 

DERA. 

Forbear ! 
Why should you wage, heroes of Ismael ! 
A war of words in conflict with each other T 
Abdallah was Mohammed's earthly witness. 
His friend, companion, and the light which chose 
His faithfulness, instructed him to act 
According to his will : — I hate the Christians — 
But then the love I bear his memory, 
Is stronger than my hatred of his foes. 

KALEIX 

I am the last to love dissension, Dera I 

ABDALLAH. 

Then listen t if we urge extremities, 
We blind ourselves to every fair advantage — 
Damascus must be ours ; — but if we hold 
A deaf ear to her cries^ and slaughter wildly, 
What city henceforth will submit, while lives 
A single arm to keep a city free ] — 
Humanity is policy in war — 



SCENE IV.] ATHENIAOFDAM ASCIIS. 31 

And cruelty's a prodigal that heaps 
A suicidal burthen on himself. 

[The bell of Damascus strikes. 

Enter a Saracen soldier. 

SOLDIEK. 

The Christians are upon the move, my lord ; 
The sentinel from yonder precipice, 
Bade me declare a sally. 

KALED. 

How is this 1 

[To Dera, 
They've fooled thee, soldier, — hurry to the rescue ! 

[Exit Dera, 
Abdallah ! head the Armenian archers, — bear 
The standard in thine own particular hand ; 
I trust it to thy charge ; — forget the past ! 
Onward and fight for Paradise ! 

ABDALLAH. 

For "Paradise ! 

[Exeunt, 

END OF ACT I. 



32 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT H. 



ACT IL 
SCENE I. 

A pleasure-ground in Damascus, Athenia alone, 

athenia. 
1 will not pluck thee from thy parent tree, 
Sweet rose of beauty r while the raindrops hang 
O'er thy clear blush their modest ornaments — 
Another hour shall glory in thy smile, 
And when the daylight dies, the queen of Heaven 
Shall fold thee in a silver veil of love, 
Forgetting her Endymion. Foolish heart ! 
As if I loved ! — Yet truly, as I live, 
I fear I love the very thought of love ! 
Oh, childish joy ! indefinite delight ! — 
That I should dream so sweetly — and at mom 
Find my eyes wet with tears ! — 

Enter Calous, 
CALOUS, {embracing her,) 

Athenia ! 

ATHENIA. 

Thank thee, Heaven ! 



SCENE I.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 33 

CALOUS. 

What kind, indulgent power 
Has smiled on Caloiis, that so much bliss 
At once should dissipate his darkest gloom, 
And make a noon of midnight ! 

ATHENIA. 

Thank thee, Heaven I 

CALOUS. 

Say then, thou lovest me still, Athenia ! 

ATHENIA. • 

Love thee ! indeed I know not if I love. — 

When thou art nigh, I fain would be alone — 

And when away, I'm sad and desolate : — 

Beshrew this maiden fickleness of thought 1 

1 would not give the treasure of my love, 

For all the wealth that earth or ocean covers : — 

And thou wilt save our altars, Caloiis I 

The holy cross, and every dear remain 

Of sainted martyr, still inviolate ! 

So shall we wander in our hours of joy. 

On the green margin of life's sunny stream, 

With more delight than ever — shall we not 1 

CALOUS. 

What grief can throw a shadow o'er our way, 
When love is cloudless ] — let thy heart be still, 



34 ATHENIA OF DAMAS CUS. [aCT JI. 

Young Halcyon, on its marble resting-place ! 

There is no fear, Athenia, that the foe 

Can harm Damascus ; — though his arm is strong, 

The arm above is stronger — even now, 

The victory is ours. 

ATHENIA. 

Alas ! Damascus. 

CALQUS. 

Chase these vain fears ! — and dost thou, maiden, think 
The soil where Adam trod in majesty — 
The land Jehovah guarded, when the fiend 
Drove Saul to persecute — and where the light 
And breath of God softened his heart of steel, 
Turning his thoughts to pity and to love ; 
Think'st thou this consecrated place can yield. 
While He is with us, as He e'er has been'? — 

ATHENIA. 

His ways are dark, and deeply intricate — 
When Heaven was kindest, innocence was lost, 
And Paradise gave birth to Misery. 

CALGUS. 

Let not such thoughts plant lilies on thy cheek. 
My own Athenia ! all will yet be well — 
Come, let me bind a chaplet of fresh flowers 
To deck thy temples — I will steal an hour 



SCENE I.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 35 

From anxious care to sacrifice to Love, 

The hopes and wishes I have nursed for thee. — 

Not always thus shall be our wayward lot, 

To wander here and steal from Love's rich store, 

These precious moments of sweet ecstacy ! 

Not always thus, my girl ! — when dove-eyed peace 

Spreads her white wings again, the sacred tie 

Shall bind our wedded hearts — till then, my love ! 

Thy smile shall cheer me on in peril's hour, 

With its dear influence ! 

ATHENU. 

Oh, Caloiis, 
Thy words have touched a string of Memory's lyre, 
And waked the key-note of the saddest dirge 
That Fancy ever played to Melancholy ! — 
I dreamed last night — how could I have forgotten ? 
I dreamed we stood before St. Michael's altar. 
Breathing eternal vows — when — oh ! how strange ! 
Suddenly, without cause, you tore away 
The holy cross down from above the altar, 
And trampled it beneath your sandaled feet ; — 
Oh, such a dream ! — and then methought that I, 
With Delphic fury maddened in my dream. 
And prophesying ruin, snatched from air. 
Hot thunder-fire, and hurled thee to the dust, 
Shrieking from very agony of hatred ! 
Oh, horror, horror, horror ! 



38 ATKENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT 11. 

CALOUS. 

Stay these fantastic thoughts, strange excellence ! 
I love thee more, Athenia, for that mind, 
So capable of wild imaginings ! — 

ATHENIA, 

But why 
Can truant Reason thus desert her throne, 
And suffer Truth and Falsehood, hand in hand, 
To conjure such conceptions in the brain 1 

CALOUS. ^ 

The mind is ever wakeful — when the spirits 
Grow weary, nature calls for their repose ; 
And thus our animal being slumbers nightly ; 
Yet the mind moves in its eternal course, 
Thought following thought, by that association, 
Which governed them by day — but like a king 
Throned with his vassals slumbering at his side, 
Its counsellors are gone — Perception's messengers 
Lie mute before their monarch — whose mistake 
Leads on to such a labyrinth of errors, 
That bright Aurora, with her threads of light, 
Must be its Ariadne, or 'tis lost. 

ATHENIA. 

Oh, strange, mysterious Nature ! strange Philosophy ! 
That reads its true relations ; — Caloiis ! 



SCENE I.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 37 

It is because of their reflex conditions, 
Matter and mind thus imaging each other, 
That I am led away by fantasy. 
Pray Heaven, you fall not in this cruel strife ! 

CALOUS. 

I prithee do not play Cassandra's part, 

And prophesy of dying ; — I have here 

A fairer Paradise than Moslems have. 

With such an Houri ! — Come, away with this ; — 

How can this dull cloud pass before the sun, 

And turn our spring to winter ] — There, I knew 

The dimpling bud of my Damascus rose 

Was only folding its sweet leaves awhile, 

To garner up more beauty ! 

ATHENIA. 

Flatterer ! 
How well you coin Love's silver currency — 
Beshrew me that I so should like its chime ! — 
My bosom is a hive •— whose winged thoughts 
Steal honey from the Hybla of your tongue, 
That when its absence brings their wintry hour. 
They may retire to their sweet home awhile. 
And dream again of summer ! Now, I know 
That angels hover round us when we love — 
For 1 have heard strange music in my walks, 
Linking the loved ideal of my heart 

4 



38 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT II. 

With all things beautiful — till eye and ear 
Drunk in delicious pleasure — How is this ] 

CALOUS. 

If angels ever leave their pure abodes, 

They could not live more spotless than with thee ! 

ATHENIA. 

Hush ! they will hear thee, and offended Heaven 

Blast us for sacrilegious vanity. 

Caloiis ! I fear 1 love thee more than Heaven ! 

CALOUS. 

Love such as thine may strike its roots below. 
But 'tis a plant that blossoms in the skies. 
Look ! how the dew of Heaven upon this flower 
Drinks up the sunbeams ! do'st thou think that they 
Were sent so many million miles to shine, 
Except to bless the petals which they warm 1 
Oh, would I were a pencil of that light, 
To live an hour with my Damascus rose ! 

ATHl^NIA. 

Oh, would 1 were a rose, and you my sun — 

That every tear which lonely night distils. 

Might dance with gladness, when you brought the morn ! 

[Calaas embraces lier. 
Oh, how the heavenly alchemy of Love, 
Turns every thought to golden blessedness ! 



SCENE I.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 39 

ADA, (without) 



What, ho ! my lady 



ATHENIA. 

It is my Baya's voice — the innocent bird, 
That bears our dearest messages of love ! 

Enter Ada, 

Well, minion, thou hast found me — art afraid ] 
What hast thou there ) An arrow, by my life ! 
Has Cupid sped a shaft at thee so soon ] 

CALOUS. 

Where didst thou find that instrument of death 1 

ADA. 

I hope, my lord, it is no evil sign. 

E'en now while standing by the marble spring, 

Listening to hear two sweet birds sing together, 

That arrow rustling through the fruit-tree leaves. 

Pierced one of those poor birds, which fell down moaning, 

Even to my very feet. I plucked it out. 

And in exceeding sorrow sought my mistress ; 

Still do I hear that dear bird's dying music. 

And its poor broken-hearted mate lamenting. 

{During Ada^s speech, Calous takes the arrow from her, 
and breaks it ^ a paper falls out, which he takes up, and 
reads. 



40 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT IT. 

CALOUS. 

" To Euphrorif Prefect of Damascus /" — 
Athenia, I must leave thee ! Stay here, Ada ! 
Where is the Prefect gone, Athenia 1 

ATHENIA. 

What can this mean 1 Ah me, some new distress ! 

CALOUS. 

In sooth, 'tis nothing, love ! — where is your father? 
[abstractedly,'] Yes ! it shall be done ! 

ATHENIA. 

What shall be done 1 

CALOUS. 

What Heaven ordains : — Leave me, my love, awhile ! 

ATHENIA. 

Leave thee awhile ! alas^ alas, Damascus ! 

I hear the death-bird screaming on the wind, 

Wo to Damascus : — Leave thee awhile — Farewell ! 

[Going. 

CALOUS. 

Stay, sweet enchantress ! by the light of love, 
And the unshrined divinity that bums 
Within that guileless bosom, where I worship, 
Dim not those angel eyes with mortal tears ; 
I did not mean to give thee pain, Athenia ! 



SCENE I.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 41 

ATHENiA, (looking earnestly at him.) 

Caloiis, thy God will leave thee to that worship, 

And wed thee to despair ! [Turning away sorrowfully, 

Alas, Damascus 1 [Exit 

CALOUS, (musing.) , 
If I give up this city, they will think 
Caloiis the worst of traitors — though the end 
Must show the deep fidelity I bear her. 
Another day would find Damascus fallen : 
Why then delay 1 — when sudden death impends, 
The direst medicine is not amiss. 
But, should I fail ! just Heaven, what wo were mine ! 
If I succeed — thy smiles, my rescued country !. 
Thy brighter smiles, Athenia, will repay 
This conflict between duty, love, and fear. 
It shall be done — dry up your tears, Damascus ! 
And spare your curses while I work your weal. 
Let me peruse this strange despatch again : — 

[ While he is reading, Euphron enters — - seeing him, 
Caloiis starts. 
Now by the Baptist's blood, the thing itself, 
The very body that the shadow threw ! — 

[To Euphron, 
Know'st thou this signet ? 

EUPHRON. 

It is Werdan's ! 
4* 



42 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT II. 

CALOUS. 

See what a herald he has sent to you — 
EirpHRON, (reading,) 

" If you cannot hold the city, contrive to gain time in some 
way. The army will he at your gates to-morrowP 

The very words ! 

CALOUS. 

Had you another like it ? 

EUPHRON. 

Even to the very folding : in a reed 
Shot as an arrow o'er the garden wall, 
I found it ere I saw you in the morning, 
And this is but its fellow to secure 
Communication. May it be the last ! — 
Had I your youth — 

CALOUS. 

Speak not to me of youth — 
I have resolved upon the sacrifice ; — 
Yet how shall it be done ] — That is the question. 

EUPHRON. 

Openly, like a traitor — 'tis apart 
Requiring the free action of a mind 
Bent on the perpetration of a deed, 
Against all dangers panoplied. 



SCENE I.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 

CALOUS. 

Alas! 
Who would believe that Caloiis has revolted 1 
They could not find a motive for the crime, 
To satisfy astonishment. In truth, sir, 
My better nature shrinks. — 

EUPHRON. 

Why should it so ? 

CALOUS. 

The Christian precept it would seem, were only 
A matter of convenience ! I have learned 
To deem it universal in its meaning. 
And I confess, my conscience does not like 
To view this strange transaction. — 

EUPHRON. 

As you please ! 
Your country, nay, Athenia, has no claim 
Upon your pity. When Damascus falls, — 
As fall she must, — should the impending blow 
Strike as it threatens — how can you behold 
The flames — the sacrilege — the foul pollution. 
You might have once prevented ! — Look you there- 
They drag my daughter from me — she is dead ! — 
No ! 'tis the seal the wanton Arab sets 
On Christian innocence ! 



43 



44 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT II. 

CALOXTS. 

Oh, spare me, spare me ! 
I prithee do not let thy fancy stain 
Her spotless ermine by another thought : — 
Name but a pretext that will varnish o'er 
The absurdity of such a foul revolt — 
Make it but actable — and 1 will do it 
Teach me to make the treachery- probable I 

EUPHRON. 

I have it, but it tasks thy virtue further — 
Thou shalt be superseded in command, 
And then revenge were natural ! 

CALOUS. 

Excellent ! 

EUPHRON. 

I'll pull the strings that move those dancing jacks^ 
The hangers-on of Government for office ; 
And they will wag their venal tongues at thee, 
And lash the rabble public into foam, 
E'en while you save them. 'Tis an easy thing 
To open the light flood-gates that hedge up 
Public opinion, and let scandal work 
On reputation. Are you satisfied T 

CALOUS. 

Methinks Lucullus asks me to a feast. 



SCENE I.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 45 

To banquet all the senses — I am lost 

In mere imagination of such bounty. 

Great God ! was ever mortal tasked as I am T 

Oh, I could wade through blood for honour's sake, 

But to seek glory in so rank a path, 

Shames me in doing. May we trust Athenia 1 

EUPHRON. 

No, not a living soul. But I must act 
The hypocrite and liar for her sake, 
And curse thee to my daughter i — 

CALOUS. 

Horrible, 
That love should mask in livery of hell ! 

EUPHRON. 

To-morrow, ere the impatient sun goes down, 

Think what a bright reverse ! Our city free ; 

The Imperial Army at our very gates ; 

The shouts, the triumph of a grateful people ; 

While their deliverer bears his bride in joy ! 

But if the foe once gain the city walls. 

Though Werdan should invest them with his rank. 

The country is alive with maddened Arabs, 

And midst their still accumulating power. 

How could we hope for mercy 1 

CALOUS. 

Say no more, 



46 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT II. 

It shall be done, be thou but prompt to aid me. 

EUPHRON. 

Meet me an hour hence in the library. 
I have a friar's dress — which oft at night, 
Serves me in my excursions through the city. 
'Twill help this great occasion. Fare thee well ! 

[Exit, 

CALOUS. 

If I should fail ! oh God, if I should fail I 
What crawling wretch would hug his grim despair 
Like Calods ! hence spectre, to thy grave ! 
Why do'st thou come to make a coward of me 1 

[Exit, 



SCENE 11. 

The Saracen camp, — Kaled, AbdallaTi, Dera, 

KALED. 

Foiled yet again ! the standard taken too ! 

ABDALLAH. 

'Tis safe, my lord ! 

KALED. 

But then it was polluted. 



SCENEIL] ATHENIA of DAMASCUS. 47 

ABDALLAH. 

Not by a Christian's touch ! 'tis true, awhile 
They bore it by the staff — myself struck down 
By their infernal engines ; — not a thread 
Of its green folds was yet contaminated^ 
Dera was present, and can vouch for this. 

dera. 
By Mecca, it is true ! 'Twas the best fight 
Since Karbur swam with blood at Akrabar ! 

(Enter a Saracen soldier in liaste.) 

KALED. 

How now! speak, fellow! — tell me what's the matter. 

SOLDIER. 

God is great ! May the word of God be ever victorious I 
The garrison at Bozra is in danger. — A caravan from An- 
tioch has been taken, bound for Damascus. We have learned 
from one who has renounced the idolatry of Christ, that 
Heraclius, the Emperor, has sent an army to relieve Damas- 
cus. May the arm of Allah strengthen you ! 

KALED. 

Presumptuous fool ! 
Would Kaled had an hundred thousand arms 
To clear the world of those unwashed idolaters ! 
What shall we do, brave soldiers ] Is it best 

To raise this siege awhile — or wilt thou go 

[To Dera. 



48 ATHENIAOFDAMASCXJS. [aCT II. 

With half the Caliph's forces, and thyself 

Dash at these wood-adorers — scourge of Christians 1 

Ere thou return, Damascus will have poured 

Her treasures to pile up the monument 

Which thou shalt lay with the imperial gold. 

DERA. 

Let me away at once, before the foe 
Can hurry on their legions to these gates. 
If we march on to-night, the palm's long shade 
Will point the east to conquered Syria. 

KALED. 

Begone in Allah's name ; for Paradise ! 
On the event of this great action, Dera ! 
Much will depend. Be cautious, curb thy valour ; 
Strike once, and mightily. Remember, Paradise ! 
Thou who hast saved the standard, art deserving 
To fight beneath its shadow ; bear it with thee ! 
Begone and conquer ! 

DERA* 

I have already won 
The favour of the black-eyed girls of Heaven ! 

KALED. 

They look with eager longing for thee, Dera ; 
There's rest for thee in Heaven. On, action, action ! 
(Enter two Saracens, leading in a Grecian captive,) 



m 



SCENE II.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 

What have we here ? stay, Dera, here's more news* 
What art thou, dog] 

CAPTIVE. 

A prisoner, at thy mercy ! 

KALED. 

A Christian and a dog. Whence art thou ] tell me? 
Or I will throw thy carcass to the hounds 
That howl for thy whole kindred ! 

CAPTIVE. 

Spare my life, 
And I will serve thee faithfully and well. 
God is the only God, and Mohammed 
His Prophet. 

KALED. 

Thou hast won thy life already ; 
Speak freely to me. How canst thou serve Allah 1 
Thou shalt be harnessed in pure gold — speak freely, 

CAPTIVE. 

The Grecian army — 

KALED. 

What of it ] where ! how many ] haste, I pray thee ! 

CAPTIVE. 

Ten leagues away, and hurrying by forced marches. 
It will be here to-morrow. 

5 



49 



m 

50 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT II. 

KALED. 

Know'st its route 1 

captive. 
Yes, and will guide thee to it unerringly. 

KALED. 

Enough ! we'll go together, scourge of Christians! 

Abdallah, thou shalt govern in my absence ! 

Keep the defensive ! and retreat, if haply 

These rabid dogs unkennel from the city. 

Go, Dera, rouse the lions from their lair, 

Bring out ten thousand archers, and as many 

High mettled chargers, manned and scimitared ; 

Provision for one day — Heraclius 

Has doubtlessly provided with large bounty " 

For all our possible wants. — Go, and when ready, 

Bring up my guard, and we will on to Bozra. 

[Exit Dera, 
Bear off your prisoner — give him nourisliment, 
And have him ready for the march forthwith. 

[Exeunt soldiers with captive, 
Abdallah, I must charge thee in my absence, 
To have a keen observance of Damascus. 
These infidels are wily as the brood 
That weep upon the borders of the Nile. 
Be sparing of thy pity, should they send 
Their olive-bearing messengers to thee. 



SCENE II.] ATHENIA OF DAMAS CUS. 51 

■W 

Our policy is conquest, and our aim 
To propagate Mohammed's revelation. 
Be all things to all men but seemingly, 
And keep thy own heart as a citadel, 
Where to retire in every great emergence. 
But trusting to thy faith and high discretion, 
Thou hast full power when Kaled is away. 

ABDALLAH. 

Alas, my shoulders are unfit to bear 
Unwonted burthens — and my heart misgives, 
Lest Kaled may return dissatisfied. 

KALED. 

Fear not. Thy course is plain. Follow it out, 
And discontent can find no place to enter. 
Hazard no battle — and what else betides, 
So we possess Damascus, all is well. 

ABDALLAH. 

If Abubekir be my judge, perhaps 

My motives to advance the cause of Allah 

May make amends for all imprudences, 

KALED. 

See ! Dera is already on the march. 
There is a soldier who can carve out empire. 
Yet should he hold a sceptre, his weak head 
Would swim so, he v/ould dash his giddy brains out. 



52 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT II. 

And yet how well he bears himself in war ! 

[Mai'tial music ; enter Dera with a guard of Saracens^ 
who march and counter-march ; Dera^ in the mean- 
time, gives up the command to Kaled, and exeunt, 

i;nd of act II. 



SCENE I.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 53 



ACT ni. 

SCENE I. 

Enter Lucretius and Decius, 

LUCRETIUS. 

What, further shortened in our poor allowance 1 

DECIUS. 

The granaries are exhausted. 

LUCRETIUS. 

Gracious Heaven ! 
Where will this end ] Yet no relief — Oh, patience I 
To what extent must we endure these ills 1 
Oh, madness ! that the Prefect should divest 
Syria's right arm of power at such a time. 
When all its strength is needed ! Why was this 1 

DECIUS. 

He urges the advice he gave the Senate, 
Though prompted by himself, and he declares 
That Calods has overstepped authority. 
Using a dangerous influence with the people. 
'Tis strange how many unimagined charges 

5* 



54 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT Ill- 

Can swarm upon a man, when once the lid 
Of the Pandora box of contumely 
Is opened o'er his head ! 

LUCHETIUS. 

'Tis strange indeed ! 

DECIUS. 

There never was a soldier more deserving, 

Than he who is rejected. He has borne 

Office with modesty, performing ever, 

His duty with a promptitude and zeal, 

That many a time have gained his country laurels. 



LUCRETIUS. 

Nor is he a mere soldier. 

DECIUS. 

Far from it. 
He served his country in a magistracy. 
And what is wonderful in these bad times. 
He never served himself. Why, look around, 
And count, if possible, the pampered numbers 
Who fatten on the state. They are the men. 
Who, if they find a man too honourable 
To be a fellow-gleaner of the spoils, 
When faction's sickle sweeps the public wealth. 
Lift up their angry voices to the crowd. 
And breathe around their pestilential breath, 



# 



SCENE I.] ATHENIAOF DAMASCUS. 

Till virtue's self is tainted by its touch : — 

So has it been with him ; — the people cry, 

" Down with the Greek ! Give us a Syrian leader." ■ 

And for the good which he has done to them, 

They pelt him with hard curses — hiss at him — 

And call him General of their misfortunes. 

But yesterday, he was their lord and idol ; 

Why, sir, the very soldiers curl their lips, 

And whisper in sarcastic raillery. 

Sporting in his disgrace. 

LUCRETIUS. 

The sun is set. 
Which broke from the high places on his head. 
And he who scattered its reflected beams. 
Condenses on his cold and rayless brow, 
The reeking atmosphere of insolence. 
The Prefect is a traitor to our hopes ! 
Some say he's jealous of Athenia's favour. 
As ill bestowed ; thus for a private pique. 
He shapes the destiny of countless thousands. 

DECIUS. 

Athenia is a noble gentlewoman, 
Stampt in the finest mould of excellence. 
Rome in her palmiest state, when woman nursed 
Her grandeur, by the care of her young heroes, 
Had scarce her equal. How will she endure 



56 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT III. 

This outrage on affection, she whose mind 
High over-tops all selfishness ] 

LUCRETIUS. 

Yet know, 
Her love is but the blossom of a tree 
Of most luxuriant verdure : in her heart, 
The love she bears her country is supreme 
O'er all affections ; and her Christian zeal 
So shames the false and meretricious colour 
That mantles our deep-grained hypocrisy, 
That I have sometimes gazed on her with awe, 
As an angelic substance. Many a time, 
When her wrapped spirit winged itself away 
In holy meditation, I have seen 
Unearthly beauty kindle o'er her face, 
And almost heard the harmony I knew 
Her kindred thoughts were hymning with her God. 

[Skouts wiihouU 
Why this tumult ? 

DECIUS. 

Probably the appointment 
Of Manlius the Centurion. 

[Shouts continue. 
Shout away ! 
Toss up your caps, enjoy your festival ! 
Riot in madness ! — in a few brief hours, 



SCENE I.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 57 

You'll wear your chains more gracefully for this : — • 
Here comes lord Caloiis — I will leave you to him. 

[Exit 

Enter CaloUs, 

LUCRETIUS. 

Noble Caloiis, 
I greet thee with a soldier's sympathy 1 

CALOUS. 

Thanks for this courtesy ! 

tiUCRETIUS. 

Do'st thou not grieve 
To see Damascus mad ? 

CALOUS. 

Say, had she cause 
To blow this mildew on my honour's bud ] 

LUCRETIUS. 

Never ! thou'st always served her like a son. 
And she has proved a most unnatural mother. 

CALOUS. 

Why, she has cast me off, as I had been 
Tainted with crime. Lucretius, thou'rt a man 
Lifted so high above the influence 
Of popular breath that sways these demagogues, 
That in my sore distress I come to ask 



58 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT ni. 

For counsel in this great calamity. 

What shall I do, Lucretius, proudly scorning 

To court the pity of the multitude ; 

Degraded, stigmatized, and pointed at 

By the bought fingers of those brainless shapes 

Which call each other men 1: 

LUCRETIUS. 

Ask'st thou me 1 

CALOUS. 

Aye, good Lucretius, what is to be done T 

LUCRETIUS. 

Set thou the first example of true greatness, 
And pity an infatuated people. 
What is't to thee, that others do thee wrong 1 
Thou art thyself, amidst the worst injustice^ 
That hatred can heap upon thy head. 
Revenge thy wrongs with magnanimity ; 
Build up thy virtue higher than the clouds 
That human passion girts the good man with, 
And let perpetual sunshine rest upon it. 
Forgive thy country, pity her, and save ! 

CALOUS. 

Oh, would I could, Lucretius, — would I could ! 
But she has come to such a pass, I fear 
That patriotism is dead, while selfishness 



SCENE I.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 59 

Stalks like a pestilential spectre forth, 
The shadow of her ruin ! 

LUCRETIITS, 

No one knows 
The influence of individual effort. 
The lowliest man wields every day and hour, 
A moral lever which may sway the world. 
But one who stands as thou do'st, far apart. 
And islanded amidst the foaming crowd, 
That chafes upon his shore — his high example 
Gives life unto a system, and 'tis his 
To be the saviour or the scourge of men ! 

CALOUS. 

True, good Lucretius, it is very true. 
Thine is a fine philosophy ; I feel 
The holy inspiration that breathes forth 
From thy pure precepts ; but humanity ! — 
Poor, error-loving, fond humanity — 
How do'st thou read the wisdom of the skies, 
Yet turn to gaze on earth ! 
Farewell ! I'll think upon thy good advice, 
And sigh o'er its instruction. [Exit, 

[Shouts without, 

LUCRETIUS. 

Farewell, thou noble and most injured man ! 
Here are chromatic discords that might stir 



60 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT III. 

A frame less sensitive. Shout, shout away [ 
Ignoble slaves ! abominable tyrants ! 

[Shouts approach. 
Well, ye come this way — I shall not shun ye ! 

[Enter a crowd of people with clubs, 

FIRST CITIZEN. 

Here is a fellow of the same fine trim, 
A rank aristocrat. 

SECOND CITIZEN. 

Look ye, my hearty ! 
Where have ye snugged away that clean-faced scoundrel ? 

LUCRETIUS. 

Whom seek ye, sage supporters of the state — 
Supreme dictators, worthy mobocrats ! 
Can poor Lucretius serve ye any way 1 

FIRST CITIZEN. 

Where's the aristocrat ? bring him before us ! 

LUCRETIUS. 

Whom is it that ye call aristocrat ] 

FIRST CITIZEN. 

Caloiis, the white-washed Greek — our former General. 

LUCRETIUS. 

A nobler nature ne'er was sacrificed 
To an ungrateful people ! hark ye, sirs ! 



SCENE I.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 61 

This Caloiis, whom ye basely villify, 
Echoing the noisy demagogues that rule ye — 

MANY VOICES. 

We are not ruled — we are the sovereign people. 

LUCRETIUS. 

Ye are the lowest of all earthly slaves ! 
Ye suffer to be collared, bridled, bitted ; 
Ye let your riders mount ye, so they cry, 
" Dear sovereign people ! sinews of the state.'* 
Ye are led as asses are — as willingly — 
So your conductors flatter you with crying 
" 'Tis as you will, your will is all supreme, 
Most honest people !" 

MANY VOICES. 

Down with this Lucretius ! 

LUCRETIUS. 

If, haply, midst your crowd of servile flatterers, 
An independent child of God is found, 
To assert the great prerogative of man. 
And speak the truth with boldness, instantly, 
Ye cry, "aristocrat," "oppressor," "tyrant ! " 
Ye are yourselves your only true oppressors ; 
Ye are yourselves the true aristocrats ; 
Ye are the kind of tyrants, who, stark mad, 
Blind and bewildered, grope among themselves, 

6 



62 ATHENIAOF DAMASCUS. [aCT III. 

And sacrifice each other. Get ye home, 
And purge away the dulness of your eyes, 
To see your true condition. Gracious Heaven ! 
Will the time ever come when man shall learn 
There's such a thing as too much liberty ] 

MANY VOICES. 

Down with this rank aristocrat, down with him. 

LUCRETIUS. 

Ye dare not lay a finger on my head. 
Unworthy Syrians ! I defy your rage ! 
Where is your leader ] let him show his face — 
Ye are a pack of cowards, every one, 
Scared even at each other. Do ye come 
To seek out Caloiis ] — Why look ye, sirs ! 
Were Caloiis here, he'd frown you to submission. 
Here is some money for you ; — get some drink, 
And pledge us your good wishes — - do, I pray ye ! 

MANY PEOPLE, (all scrambling far the money.) 
Huzza for Caloiis ! long live Lucretius ! 
Huzza! huzza! huzza! 

[Exeunt tumuUuously, 

LUCRETIUS. 

I'd buy a million of ye, had I money, 

For any act rebellious. God have mercy ! 

If our deliverance rests on such as these ! [Exit, 



SCENE II.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 63 

SCENE 11. 

An apartment in Ewphron^s house, — Athenia and Ada, 

ADA. 

Why does my mistress weep ] It grieves my heart 
To see her shed so many tears — has Ada 
Offended her? 

ATHENIA. 

Hush, Ada, I am done — 
The fountain is exhausted. Have you seen 
My father in his usual walk, to-day 1 

ADA. 

Early this morning — not since he went abroad. 

ATHENIA. 

Would he were within ! my heart is heavy, 
And longs to pour its griefs within some bosom. 
There is a noise in his apartment now ; 
Go, Ada, call him to me, and request,. 
If he have leisure, a short interview. 

[Exit Ada who returns immediately, 

ADA. 

'Tis not your father, madam.. 

ATHENIA. 

Not my father ! 



64 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [ ACT III. 

ADA. 

It is a holy friar — an intimate ; 
I've seen him often pass the corridor, 
But never with your father, 

ATHENIA. 

Call him hither ! 

[Exit Ada, 
My spirits would be Hghtened of this weight, 
That presses them to earth. Why are we thus 
The sport of circumstance — that some light breath 
Should quench the taper that dispelled the night, 
And call it back again ] 

Enter Ada, 

ADA. 

My lady, he is gone — his hurried step 
Chid my request, ere I had uttered it. 

ATHENIA. 

Oh, for a sister's heart, to share with mine. 
Its burthen of affection. 

ADA. 

Dearest lady ! 

ATHENIA. 

My gentle girl, do'st thou not sometimes wish 
To be among the playmates of thy home, 



SCENE II.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 65 

And watch the antelopes among the hills, 
Bounding from crag to crag ; and hear the storm 
Sounding majestic anthems ] 

ADA. 

Dearest lady! 
I often think of home — but 'tis to bless 
My parents that they gave my youth to thee. 
Oh, they were kind, and taught me how to live ; 
But thou, alone, hast taught me how to die ! 
May I not call thee sister 1 

ATHENIA. 

Yes, sweet Ada ! 
Enter Eupliron in haste. 
Oh, my father ! 

EUPHRON. 

Quickly, Athenia, 
Tell me who passed the corridor just now I 

ATHENIA. 

Why, father, was it not the holy friar, 
Who visits you so often] 

ADA. 

It was he. 
I saw him pass with an unusual speed. 
Some time ago. 

6* 



66 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT III* 

EUPHRON. 

Hark ! what noise is that 1 

Again I 

[Going to the window. 

Look how the people hurry through the streets ! 

[Bell strikes. 

Why all this tumult 1 treason, by the cross ! 

ATHENIA. 

God forbid I God forbid ! 

Enter a Soldier, 

EUPHRON. 

How now 1 what means this tumult T speak, I charge thee ! 

SOLDIER. 

My tongue refuses utterance — I cannot. 

EUPHRON. 

Slave, if you think to trifle with me thus, 
I'll hurl thy trunkless head among the crowd. 
Speak, chicken-hearted varlet ! 

SOLDIER. 

Treason is out — Caloiis has fled to Kaled I 

ATHENIA. 

Liar ! May Heaven's hot lightning scorch thy heart ! — 
Infamous liar ! 'tis false, thou hollow villain — 
Caloiis a traitor ! Caloiis fled to Kaled ! 



SCENE II.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 67 

Sooner would Michael fly to the arch fiend, 
And storm the throne of Heaven ! 

EUPHRON. 

. Impossible ! 

ATHENIA. 

Ay, though you stripped him of his oaken crown, 
Blasted his full-blown honours — banished him — 
He could not play the Roman exile's part, 
And strike against his country ! 

Yet that dream ! 
How like an ugly fiend at murky night. 
It rises up before me ! — Hence, base phantoms ! 
Ye hell-engendered offspring of bad thoughts. 

Back to your sulphurous caverns ! Air ! 

[Faints. 
The attendants support Athenia, — Another soldier enters, 

EUPHRON. 

More news ! 
Out with it, screaming raven ! — tell us quickly, 
Is it all true 1 Has Calous fled indeed ? 

SOLDIER. 

Most basely fled. 

EUPHRON. 

Then are we lost forever ! 



68 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT HI. 

ATHENiA, (reviving.) 

Where is lord Caloiis 1 

[Looking around wildly. 

EUPHRON. 

Alas ! my wretched daughter I 
Caloiis has played the traitor to his trust, 
And sacrificed his country ! Damned villain ! 

ATHENIA. 

Speak not thus ! speak not thus ! in pity, father ; 
I never knew you thus ; your own Athenia, 
Your daughter, father, begs you to forbear ! 
No ! no ! no ! no ! — just Heaven avert the omen ! 

EUPHRON. 

Alas ! my gentle sufferer, 'tis too true ! 

ATHENIA. 

Then thou Eternal Father of all Truth, 

Pour out the vials of thy wrath upon him. 

May his false heart blaze with the flames of hell, 

And crust to ashes, (kneels.) Here I vow to thee, 

Never again to commune with kind thoughts. 

Till thy sure retribution mete to him 

The scourge of perfidy ! Hence, charmer, hence ! 

Come black revenge, revenge that knows no stay, 

From that cold grave, where lies my buried love, 

And may death's angel hover o'er his path. 



SCENE III.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 

And darken it still deeper with despair ! 

[ While she is still kneeling, the scene doses. 



SCENE III. 

Near the Saracen camp. 
Enter Caloiis, (throwing off a friafs dress.) 

CALOUS. 

Now then I'll play the villain — thus the soul 
Strips off its mortal dress to play the fiend, 
And lure confiding fools to certain ruin. 
Unhappy city ! I can bear your curses ; 
Howl your wrath louder yet ; a few more hours 
Shall change this jarring discord to a hymn 
Of gratitude and joy. And thou, Athenia ! 
Thou who hast chained me to the car of love. 
Keep back the ignorant current of thy thoughts, 
And let its tranquil beauty, as is wont, 
Paint the clear depths of Heaven ! 

This should be 
The outposts of their camp. Now steel thy heart, 
Caloiis, for perfidy ! — forgive me. Heaven, 
If thou can'st sanctify unrighteous means. 
To aid the cause of Christian truth and mercy ! 
Hist ! who is here 1 sure 'tis a Syrian woman ; — 



69 



70 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT lit. 

Ah, me ! what sorrows may that creature have ! 
For none but earth-deserted wanderers, 
From yon beleagured charnel-house of wo, 
Would seek asylum here. Who art thou, woman 1 

Enter OpMra^ who does not lieed Calous, 

OPHIRA. 

Who said the ravens brought Elijah food ? Hush ! 'twas 
the vulture's scream ! — 'Twas manna saved them. To 
think that the monster could kill her own child ! — She 
ought to have nursed the poor innocent. I wish it had been 
mine. Come ! come ! come ! I will not hurt you ! Ophira 
is only a lone woman ! — Now, we can talk the matter over. 
He said that man-slaughter and man' s-laughter were the same 
thing ! — ha ! ha ! ha ! — well might the screech-owl laugh. 

CALOUS. 

Unhappy woman ! 

OPHIRA, (discovering him,) 
Ha ! 1 have found you then ! why do you not go home to 
her, if she is unhappy ] She gave me food, and I left her 
mad ! They are all mad now ! 

CALOUS. 

Merciful Heaven! 

OPHIRA. 

I told them so ! though they all blasphemed and hissed 



SCENE III.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 71 

at me. I told Athenia that I would find you, too ; but 1 
cannot find him. Tell me, for the love of God, where they 
have buried my husband ] 

'CALOUS. 

Distraction ! 

OPHIRA. 

Look you here, sir ; tell me, is not this a sweet corpse ? — 
Yet Ophira is not mad. I wish she were ; for see, how they 
look at me as they pass along : there ! they are whispering 
about it now ! [Falls down. 

CALOtrs, (aside.) 

Poor maniac ! 

OPHlRA. 

I heard her tell, how she and her husband were lost in a 
desert, where they could not get any food. How the Arabs 
murdered him, while the j^or child starved at her parched 
bosom. It was a sweet ballad, though enough to break a 
heart of stone. It went thus : 

(Sings.) 

" The elf-king Ireathed in its infant ear, 

While the earth-worm coiled in its clayey bedJ'^ 

I forget the rest ; but it went on to tell, how they laid it un- 
der the cypress tree, and covered it with fresh flowers. Let 
us now go home, and leave them all in the church-yard 



72 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT III. 



They are sound asleep — don't wake them ! hush ! 
let me cover you over, my dear child ! — there ! 

CALOXJS. 

This is but one of the unnumbered ills, 
Conquest has brought Damascus — such is war ! 
Oh Heavens ! when will the spiritual sun arise, 
And with his beams effulgent, drive away 
The mists of error that so long have hung 
Their dark, unnatural drapery o'er the mind, 
That broods o'er human carnage ! when will man 
Turn from the path of Cain, and learn to see 
A brother without hating ? Hear me, Heaven ! 
Alas ! how much have 7 to be forgiven ! 



[Dies, 



[Exit. 



END OF ACT III. 



SCENE I.] ATHENIAOF DAMASCUS. 73 



ACT IV, 
SCENE I. 

Inside of the Saracen tent — Abdallah surrounded with soldiers* 

ABDALLAH. 

No news from Kaled yet ] 

OFFICER. 

Nothing decisive. 
But from the Christian captives we have learned 
IntelKgence that he has met the foe. 
Allah is on our side, and we must conquer. 

ABDALLAH. 

Oh, that Mohammed would come down from Heaven, 
And teach us o'er again, those holy lessons 
We have so soon forgotten ! Not for war 
Nor conquest was the Koran sent to earth ; 
But to teach men to live. Would Kaled knew 
That mercy is the attribute of Allah ! 

Enter a Soldier, 

SOLDIER. 

Strength to the arm of Allah ! Gracious Abdallah, 

7 



74 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT IV. 

A Christian prisoner waits to be admitted ! 

ABDALLAH. 

Bring him before us. 

[Exit Soldier, 
Now would they be wise, 
And barter infidelity for faith, 
Damascus still might be their Paradise. 

Re-enter soldier with Caloils in chains. 

This is no common man ! his high blood speaks 
Even in his silence. As I live, the same ! 
Art thou not Caloiis, the Syrian leader ] 

CALOUS. 

I wore the livery once, that slaves for fame I 
To-day I am an outcast of the earth ; 
But Heaven has set a mark upon my brow 
By which Abdallah knows the thing that was. 
I am thy willing prisoner ! 

ABDALLAH. 

This is strange ! 
Why do'st thou say a willing prisoner] 

CALOUS. 

I am that wretched thing which men call traitor 

ABDALLAH. 

Is 't possible 1 



SCENE I.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 75 

CALOUS. 

I am a liar else. 

ABDALLAH. 

He who can turn a traitor to his cause, 
And sell his country, is the worst of liars ! 

CALOUS. 

I do not sell my country, she sells me ! 

ABDALLAH. 

How sells thee 1 

CALOUS. 

Listen to me, sage Abdallah ! 
Thou hast a reputation which transcends 
The narrow confines of the Arab's path. 
And Christian princes, though they will not learn, 
Have listened to thy more than Christian wisdom. 
Abdallah ! I address thee as a man. 
With all his human frailties thick upon him ; — 
Hear then my story — weigh it and believe. 

ABDALLAH. 

Proceed ! I'll throw my passions in one scale. 
And yours in the other — and I'll sit in the midst, 
Portioning my humanity, to keep 
The balance, lest thy own preponderate. 

CALOUS. 

But yesterday, — alas ! the wond'rous change, 



76 ATHENIAOFDAMASCXJS. [aCT IV. 

That one short revolution of this globe 
May bring to man ! — but yesterday I was the pride — 
The pillar of Damascus. Thou, Abdallah ! 
KnoVst how I fought her battles. 

ABDALLAH. 

Would to Allah, 
Thou hadst been half as zealous in his cause ! 

CALOUS. 

Dissension in our ranks, and foul disunion, 

Have turned my little merit to a fault, 

And magnified the transformation so. 

It frights them to behold it. Need 1 tell thee ! 

They would have sued for peace, and I opposed it. 

And being unsuccessful yesterday, 

The faction which had yielded up the city, 

Have cried me down, and heaped on me their scorn ; 

While Euphron, who was bound to take my part, 

Has turned me from my office, and disgraced me. 

ABDALLAH. 

Oh, faction ! what a fiend on earth art thou ! 
The madness of a party or a sect. 
Is but a whip placed in the hands of men. 
To scourge our vices with. Oh, Caloiis ! 
Thou art our bitterest enemy ; and yet. 
There is an echo from my inmost heart. 
Responsive to thine own ; — but can I think 



SCENE I.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 77 

Thy noble nature would have stooped so low, 

To play the traitor, and disgrace thy blood. 

As thou wilt here pretend ] Thou do'st deceive me. 

CALOUS. 

Alas I my passions weighing against thine. 
Bear down that same humanity thou speak'st of; 
Have I asked any favour at thy hand, 
That thou should'st so discredit my intentions T 
My life is in thy power, I pray thee take it ; 
For I do loathe existence, which can bring 
Nothing but foul dishonour every way. 

ABDALLAH. 

Would that I could believe thee — but I cannot. 

CALOIJS. 

I tell thee, sir, I have renounced my country — 

Its rank idolatry — ingratitude — 

And all that I have cherished, or have loved. 

ABDALLAH^ 

Impossible ! 

CALOUS. 

And given myself to Islam ! 

ABDALLAH. 

To Islam 1 

7* 



78 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT IV. 

CALOUS. 

To the Prophet. 

ABDALLAH. 

Gracious Allah ! 
Can this be true 1 

CALOUS. 

God is the only God, 
Mohammed is his Prophet ! 

ABDALLAH, (throwing himself into his arms,) 

Caloiis I 
Forgive me ! I have v^ronged thee ! how should I 
Have known the gracious will of the Most High ? 
'Twas He who turned thy heart from Syria ; 
'Twas He w^ho reconciled thy heart to Him, 
In this mysterious way ! — Kneel, then, good brother ! 
And thank with me the Father of all light. 

[ They kneel together, 
CALOUS, (aside.) 
Oh, what a wretch am I ! 
ABDALLAH, (rising,) 

Now, then, my brother, 
Thou hast disarmed suspicion — let me know 
Freely thy purpose, and I will endeavour 
To lend a patient hearing to thy words. 



SCENE I.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCXTS. 79 

CALOUS. 

Know then, I come to ask no favour of thee, 
Unless it be a favour to allow 
Cooperation in thy great design 
Of conquering Damascus ! 

ABDALLAH. 

Say'st thou so ! 

CALOUS. 

Guard me, and hold above my recreant head, 
Thy sharpest scimitar. I'll show the way. 
At midnight, where a secret passage leads 
Right to the city's heart : when this is done. 
Strike through my neck, and seal the truth I utter. 

ABDALLAH. 

And ask'st thou no reward for this great service 1 

CALOUS. 

Only the privilege to die revenged. 

ABDALLAH. 

Thou would'st not bathe thy hands in kindred blood ? 

CALOUS. 

No! 

ABDALLAH. 

Wouldst thou strike the ruler who disgraced thee 1 



80 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT IV. 

CALOUS* 

r said 1 would not ask to be rewarded — 
Yet I would have thy promise not to shed 
One drop of Christian blood : — . 

ABDALLAH. 

Thy wish is granted. 

CALOUS. 

An oath I 

ABDALLAH. 

I swear to thee by Mecca's tomb, 
To keep my word inviolate. 

CALOUS. 

Enough r 
At midnight I will teach thee to elude 
The watchful sentinel — and ere the dawn 
Leads on Aurora, there shall be a cry. 
Such as Damascus has not heard before, 
In her distresses. 

ABDALLAH. 

Calods, I believe 
Sincerity has stampt thy every word ; 
But I am ruling now in Ealed's stead : — 

CALOUS. 

Ruling in Kaled's stead 1 



I 



SCENE I.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 81 

ABDALLAH. 

Aye, in his place. 
Why, know they not, in thy unhappy city, 
That Kaled has withdrawn one half his forces, 
To meet the imperial arms, and give them battle 1 

CALOUS. 

No ! on my life. 

(Aside.) Oh, w^ould they had but known it ! 

ABDALLAH. 

What do'st thou think of that, ransomed of Allah ] 

CALOUS. 

I cannot wish the imperial army ill — 
So it bring no relief unto Damascus ! 

ABDALLAH. 

Oh, have no fear of that ; / have no fear. 
Before to-morrow's dawn, Kaled will bring 
The trophies of bis victory. 

CALOUS, (aside.) 

Now, God forbid ! 

^ ABDALLAH. 

Caloiis ! it grieves me to declare it to thee ! 
I cannot strike those fetters from thy arms, 
Till thou hast made thy promises secure ! 






82 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT IV. 

CALOUS. 

Chains cannot fetter the free mind. Ah me ! 

[Aside. 
Would that they could ! when conscience tortures it ! 

ABDALLAH. 

Now then for action ! Soldiers, to your posts ! 

This night we have Damascus ! [Exeunt. 

CALOUS, (loitering.) 

Precious villain ! 



SCENE IL 

An apartment in EuvJiron^s house. Euphron alone, 

EUPHRON. 

'Tis done ! Another day will drop the scroll, 
Where, in the record of revolving years 
And great events, Damascus' fate is written. 
Angel of Hope ! thou who, — when dark Despair 
Hangs heavily, with sable pinions spread. 
To shut out Heaven from the desponding soul, — 
Fiercest the sombre veil, and bring'st us peace, 
Come from thy seraph-home, and gild this hour 
So wrapt in clouds of dim uncertainty ! — 

[Pauses. 



SCENE 11.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 



83 



Calo'ds ere this has gained the ear of Kaled, 
And acted like a player, his hard part. 
Now, were Abdallah chief instead of him, 
The Arab's pity might be taught to flow 
Like some poor heart-sick maiden's, at a tale 
Less true than the great fiction now on foot. 
Oh, would Athenians grief were no more real ! 

Enter Athenia, 

My daughter ! [Embracing her. 

ATHENIA. 

Dearest father ! 
(Bursting into tears : — then with emotion.) 

Caloiis ! 
To think that he, of all men, should prove false ! 
Oh wretch, to give away my heart to love ! 
Oh fool, to traffic my immortal soul, 
For such a recreant's worship ! oh, my father, 
The hope I should have anchored on my God, 
I threw away on him ! Oh, help me, father ! 
I have no other father beside thee ! 
Save thy poor daughter ! — oh, my brain is hot, 
And my heart swells to bursting ; — I have prayed 

[Solemnly, 
Most fervently for death — but without faith ; 
I have waked up at last to the dark truth. 
That all my heart's devotion has been false : 



84 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT IV. 

'Twas my imagination that I served, 

And not my Maker ! Heaven have mercy on me ! 

EUFHRON. 

Amen. May Heaven have mercy on us all ! 

athenia. 
Why, what a sinful, selfish thing am I ! 
My own particular grief absorbs the world's ! — 
Here is Damascus reeling to her fall, 
While I, myself^ am wailing* Patience, Heaven ! 

EUPHROJ^. 

Hold to that fond idea, my sweet child, 

And pray to Heaven for patience. Oh, just God ! 

Look down upon my child, and pity her ! 

ATHENIA. 

No ; do not ask Him to look down on me ! 

I'll hide me from Him, like the first weak creature 

Who cursed herself for love ! Oh, conscience-smitten. 

Vain, foolish woman, how art thou a prey 

To thy wild fantasy ! 

EUPHRON. 

My dear Athenia ! 
Yield not to this too stern necessity ; 

Time, which has brought thee grief, will bring thee comfort. 
Think how Damascus suffers ! 



SCENE II.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 85 

ATHENIA. 

Oh, 1 do ! 

Poor, widowed, lone Damascus. Yes, my father, 
I'll steel my bosom for this double strife — 
Bury my hopes and perish with my country ! 

EUPHRON. 

Thou shalt not perish — neither shall Damascus. 
Come, cheer thy heart, sweet mourner, there is hope 
I have not told thee of. To-morrow's sun 
Shall find the imperial army at our gates. 

ATHENIA. 

That were a joy too mighty ! Do'st thou think so 1 

EUPHRON. 

I know so, my dear daughter. 

ATHENIA. 

But, my father, 
I dreamed an angel touched my lips with fire, 
And bade me prophesy ! 

EUPHRON. 

It was thy fancy. 
ATHENIA, (solemnly.) 

Father, his wings were like a summer cloud 
Touched with the sunset ; and they veiled his face. 
Which streamed such dazzling brightness, I fell down, 

8 



86 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT IV. 

Stunned with unearthly splendour. While I lay, 
Like Saul, God-smitten, paralysed with dread, 
A voice that mocked all melody that floats 
From choral song and instrumental breath, 
Bade me arise. And as I rose, a hand 
Immortal touched my quivering lips with fire. 
And then a voice like many thunders rent 
The dome of Heaven's high temple, crying loudly : 
" Go, prophesy the downfall of Damascus ! 
" Her sins are scarlet, and they cry aloud 
" In blasphemy ! — her day of doom is come. 
" Wo to Damascus ! wo to the head of Syria !" 

(Raving,) 
Merciful Heaven, suspend this retribution ! 
Hold, thou death-angel ! take another bolt, 
That will bring madness ! Let me not go mad ! 
I would not die in madness ! 

^ EUPHRON. 

Oh, my daughter ! 

athenia. 
My mind ! my mind ! Oh, the dull agony 
Of this alternate glimmering and shadow. 
That will not let me fix my unhinged thought ! 
Lie still thou fluttering traitress ! 'Tis thy fault ; 
Thou'st gorged thyself with honeyed hopes so long. 
Thou do'st rebel against these bitter drugs 



SCENE II.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 87 

Of wholesome sorrow and untasted anguish : 
Despair is med'cine for thee — drink or die ! 

EUPHRON. 

Oh, if thou lov'st thy father, talk not thus ! 

ATHENIA, (with forced calmness.) 

Is it not strange that reason should see madness 
Tugging to reach her throne — and still more strange, 
For consciousness to see the two at war. 
Throttling for mastery in their great death-struggle ! 

(Smiling unnaturally.) 
Thou seest I yet can think, my dear, dear father ! 
Such is the power of my most strenuous will. 
Now I will go and say my evening prayers. 
And then to bed. Good night ! good night, dear father ! 

(As she goes out.) 

Wo to Damascus ! wo ! 

[Exit. 

EXJPHRON. 

Good night ! good night ! may blessed messengers 
Hold thee in peaceful slumbers — and the morn 
That finds Damascus free, awake thy smile 
To greet her unexpected happiness ! — . 
Enter Lucretius. 
How now, Lucretius, welcome^ 

LUCRETIUS, 

Euphron ! 



88 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT IV. 

Thou'st done a mighty wrong to Syria, 
And now thou givest welcome to a man, 
Who comes to rate thy folly. 

EUPHRON. 

How is this ] 

LUCRETIUS. 

Hast thou not sold thy country for a bribe 1 

EUPHRON. 

Never ! 

LUCRETIUS. 

Betrayed it ! 

EUPHRON. 

On my soul I have not ! 

LUCRETIUS. 

Where is our General, — Caloiis] 

EUPHRON. 

Revolted ! 

LUCRETIUS. 

And why has he revolted 1 — tell me that. 

EUPHRON. 

Go ask the people I 

LUCRETIUS. 

Ask the people — Traitor ! 



SCENE II.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 89 

EUPHKQN- 

'Tis well for thee, that midst the public wo,. 

The railer has the privilege to fret, 

Or I would have thee whipt for insolence t 

LUCRETIUS. 

Poor fool ! thou art beside thyself — thou know'st 
'Twere more than thy bad life is worth to do it. 
Where is that wretched victim of injustice. 
Whom I must call thy daughter ] 

EUPHRON. 

I prithee do not cut my heart in twain — 

It is already sundered so, its parts 

Divide with life and death. Thou canst not judge 

A father's feelings, who hast had no child ! 

Lucretius, thou hast done me cruel wrong ! 

Yet I forgive thee,, for thou art a man 

Incapable of meditating evil. 

I do entreat thee wait awhile with patience. 

Time will unravel all this mystery ; 

And thou wilt turn thy curses into blessings ;; 

The people, too, will bless me ! 

LUCRETIUS. 

They are mad : 
Too late they find the folly of their course, 
In being led so blindly ; and they rave 

8* 



90 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT TV^ 

In bitterness of heart, against the Senate. 
Manlius, whom you so wickedly have raised, 
Already have they sacrificed. 

EUPHRON. 

Indeed ! 

LUCRETIUS. 

Indeed ! in very deed : art thou the Prefect, 
And still art ignorant of what is doing 1 
Go to the market-place, and see the ruin 
Which twenty thousand furious men have wrought 
Within an hour — the Arab need not come ; 
Despair and rage are enemies enough 
To crush a hundred cities like Damascus. 
Tell me, where is Athenia ] 

EUPHRON. 

Just now retired ! 
Heart-sick, and laden with excessive sorrow ! 
She would not be disturbed. 

LUCRETIUS. 

I did intend 
To proffer comfort to her — yet, alas ! 
What solace could I offer 1 

EUPHRON. 

None whatever. 
If she be spared another day, there's hope — 



SCENE II.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 91 

LTJCEETIUS. 

What hope] 

EUPHRON. 

The imperial army — 

LUCRETIUS. 

What of it] 

EUPHRON. 

It will be here to-morrow. 

LUCRETIUS. 

Mockery ! 

EUPHRON. 

As surely as the sun will rise to-morrow, 
Werdan will bring relief. 

LUCRETIUS. 

How know'st thou this 1 

EUPHRON. 

I had a message from him yesterday. 

' LUCRETIUS. 

I fear it will be too late. 

EUPHRON. 

Pray Heaven it be not! 



92 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT IV. 

LUCRETIUS. 

Alas, the indignation of the people 

Will leave but little to be saved to-morrow. 

EUPHRON. 

Go, hie thee to them, good Lucretius ! 
Tell them the tidings, and perchance it may 
Turn the dark current backward. 

LUCRETIUS. 

'Twere in vain r 
Thou might'st as well roll back the troublous tide 
Of swoU'n Euphrates. Why didst thou keep secret 
The news that might have staid its course at oncel 

EUPHRON. 

Reasons of state did prompt me. 

LUCRETIUS.. 

I will da 
Thy bidding ; but I fear it is too late. 
Come, go with me — perchance thy countenance 
May more avail than mine. Let us away. 



SCENE III.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 93 



SCENE III. 

A 'public square in Damascus, Shouts and disturbance around. 
Enter Euphron and Lucretius, 

LUCRETIUS. 

What do'st thou think oft now ] 

EUPHRON. 

'Tis terrible. 

LUCRETIUS. 

They've razed St Michael's temple to the ground 

With sacrilegious violence. Look you there ! 

How the dark torrent swells and heaves along, 

Like to the thundering avalanche, that swings 

Its ponderous mass from Lebanon, uptearing 

Gigantic rocks, and forests of huge cedars. 

Crowding them into ruin. Look you there ! 

How like the very spirit of the blast, 

Yon towering form of female majesty 

Bears herself onward. See, they follow her ! 

She sways their thousands as a single one. 

And that an infant ! Look ! they come this way ! 

Marked ye that ! marked ye that ! St. Paul, it is Athenia ! 

EUPHRON. 

Now all the saints support me, if 't be she 1 



^4 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. [aCT IV. 

LUCRETIUS. 

See ! she comes this way, the people following. 
Let us stand by, and mark what she is doing. 
She looks the priestess of the oracle. 

Enter Athenia followed hy a crowd of people, 

ATHENIA. 

Wo to Damascus 1 wo to the head of Syria ! 

EUPHRON, (rushing forward.) 
Athenia ! oh, my daughter ! 
Why are you here exposed to this rude fury ? 

CITIZENS. 

Down with the traitor Euphron, he has deceived the 
people — kill him ! kill him t 

ATHENIA. 

Kill him I he is my father ! back, murderers, back ! 

CITIZENS. 

He is Athenians father — do not hurt him ! 
Athenia feeds the poor — let go her father. 
But let us kill Lucretius ! 

ATHENIA. 

In God's great name, I do command forbearance ! 
There's blood enough upon your hands already. 
Repent, repent ! the doom of wrath awaits ye ! 



SCENE III.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 95 

Wo to Damascus ! wo to the head of Syria ! 

CITIZENS, H' 

Wo to the tyrants who deceive the people ] 

LIPCRETIUS. 

Stay this discordant tumult for a season ! 

CITIZENS. 

Wo to the tyrants who deceive the people ! 

ATHENIA. 

Wo to Damascus ! wo to the head of Syria ! 

EUPHRON. 

Good people, hear me ! 'tis your good I seek ! 

CITIZENS. 

No ! no ! no ! no ! Let us hear Lucretius. 

LUCRETIUS. 

Then listen to me, most abused, good people. 

CITIZENS, 

Let us hear Lucretius ! — speak to us, Lucretius ! 

LUCRETIUS. 

Why do ye riot in your frenzy thus 1 
Already have ye slain your General ; 
Already have ye razed our sacred altars ; 
And spread such desolation, that our foes 
Would stand aghast, should they possess the city, 



93 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT IV. 

To find their own work done. Is it despair 
That drives you to this fury 1 Hear me, then ; 
The imperial army will be here to-morrow. 

CITIZENS. 

Huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! 

LUCRETIUS. 

Yes, fellow-citizens, another day 

Will see Damascus free. Werdan has sent 

A messenger to tell you to have hope. 

CITIZENS. 

Huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! Lead us to battle ! 

LUCRETIUS. 

Alas ! there is no General to lead you. 
But in the name of all ye love and worship, 
I pray ye to disperse, or ruin waits you ! 

ATHENIA. 

Wo to Damascus ! wo to the head of Syria ! 

LUCRETIUS. 

Peace, frantic maiden ! Fellow-citizens, 
I pray you now disperse. — If by to-morrow, 
The imperial army do not succour you, 
Wreak on Lucretius' head your ample vengeance. 
Will ye disperse, I say ] 



SCENE III.] ATHENiAOFDAMASCUS. 97 

CITIZENS. 

We will ! we will ! come let us all away ! 

LUCRETII7S. 

Thanks for this spirit ! let us be united, 
And Sjrid. yet is free ! 

[ The people disperse and exeunt, 

{In the meanwhile Athenia stands abstractedly, her hands crossed 
upon her bosom, with her eyes fixed upward, 

EUPHRON. 

Athenia ! 

ATHENIA. 

Who is it calls the wretch whose name I bear ] 

EUPHRON. 

Thy father, my loved child, thy father. 

ATHENIA. 

Well! 

EUPHRON. 

If thou hast any love for Calods, 

Or reverence for me, I do entreat thee — 

ATHENIA, (as if waking,) 
Oh misery ! another day of misery ! 
Why have I waked to count the tedious moments 
Of one more day of horror ! 

9 



98 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT IV. 

[Looking surprised at Ewphron, 
Oh memory ! — my father ! oh my father ! 

{Bursting into tears, and throwing herself on Ms neck, 

EUPHRON. 

Blest image of thy sainted mother, come 

Repose with me thy sorrows. There is hope, 

And peace, and joy, in store for thee, my child. 

Come, thou poor stricken fawn — come to my heart — 

A father's love shall cherish thee, my child — 

A father's love shall wipe away thy tears, 

And still thy troubled spirit — thank thee, heaven ! 

ATHENIA. 

Oh father, there is comfort in these tears ! 
Why are we here, my father ] Good Lucretius ! 
Let us go home — the evening air is cold — 
I have been dreaming sadly, — see ! 'tis late, — 
The pale moon shining o'er the orchard trees, 
Lists to the cricket's hymn. Let us go home — 
I'm very dull in spirits, my dear father ! 
But I will tell thee as we walk along, 
Strange things, revealed to me, in heavy slumber. 
More unimaginable and sublime. 
Than the Apocalypse — if it be not sin 
To say so. — Come my father — good Lucretius ! 

[Exeunt, 

END OF ACT IV. 



SCENE I.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 99 



ACT V. 

SCENE I. 

Outside the walls of Damascus, — The hell tolls twelve. 
Enter Calous, in chains, 
CALous, (speaking to Abdallah at the side,) 
Wait thee awhile ; the gate is here, hard by — 
I must see all things ready. 

[Approaching the secret gate. 
The Prefect must be here, — it was agreed. 
At twelve o'clock precisely. Hush ! Who's there 1 

[A bolt draws slowly^ ofnd a door opens in the wall which 
entirety concealed it. 

Enter through the door, Euphron, muffled. 
EUPHRON, (discovering Calous.) 

Calo'ds ! — 
Now this is well ; — where are your new-born friends ? 

CALOUS. 

Hush ! they are here, close by. 

EUPHRON. 

Then it is finished ! — - 



100 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT V. 

Oh, noble youth ! thou hast indeed deserved 
Thy country's admiration, and Athenia. 
Caloiis, thy conduct has amazed the people, 
As well it might, — and heaped such curses on us, 
(For I am a partaker of their hatred,) 
As never men received. I almost fear 
Our project has o'erleaped itself and failed ; 
For riot has been ruling in our city, 
O'erswaying public order. Yesterday, 
The mob demolished all our granaries,.. 
To satisfy their fury, and tore down 
St.Michaers tower, We've had a fearful time I 

CALOUS. 

Oh melancholy presage ! Poor Damascus ! — 
How is Athenia T 

EUPHRON. 

Speak not of her now.. 
Away with all despondency, — and turn 
Thy sad presages into rainbow hopes. 
I will away, and tell Athenia all, 
'Tis time the imperial army were in hearing,. 

CALOUS. 

Do'st know that Kaled with one half his army 
Has gone to give them battle T 

EUPHRON. 

You surprise me ! 



$ 



SCENEI.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 101 

CALOXrs. 

'Tis true ; — and on the event, all things depend. 
Werdan has twice the force that Kaled has. 
Retire within the city — there is hope. 
Draw up our forces in a solid phalanx 
Within St. Michael's square : — should ill betide, 
I'll cut my way to meet them. Fare thee well ! 

EUPHRON. 

Farewell ! I'll have all ready — now God speed thee ! 

[Enters the gate, 

CALOUS. 

Now then, Abdallah, follow ! 

Enter Ahdallah with soldiers, 

ABDALLAH. 

Thou art faithful ! 
Strike off his chains ; — henceforth we will be friends ! 

CALOUS. 

This way ! 
[They enter the gate, and the scene closes. 



9* 



102 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT V . 



SCENE 11. 

A street within the city.*— -Enter Abdalldh and Caloiis with 
soldiers. 

ABDALLAH. 

Now is Damascus ours : — I thank thee, Allah ! 
That thou hast granted me a bloodless triumph. 
Without thy aid through him, this goodly place 
Had swam with Christian blood ; — far better thus. 

Enter a Saracen soldier in haste. 
Why this haste "J 

SOLDIER. 

Peace to the Prophet's friend I 
Kaled returns victorious ! 

ABDALLAH. 

Thanks again I 
Here is a double glory for our arms. 

SOLDIER. 

The army of Heraclius is routed. 
Their General slain. 



CALous, (aside.) 
Then are we lost indeed ! 

[Shouts and screams heard without. 



SCENE n.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 103 

Now God direct my efforts ! 

[Springing at Abdallah suddenly, Calms 
wrests Ms scimitar from Ms hand, 

Damascus ! I am with thee once again, 
To save thee, or to perish ! 

ABDALLAH. 

Strike down the traitor I — Treason ! 

[The Saracens spring forward, but Calous 
cuts his way through them, and exit 
Follow him to the death ! 

[Several chase after Mm. 
Now cm*se this credulous heart for trusting him ! 

Enter Kaled, 
Welcome, thou sword of God ! by Allah, welcome ! 
Kaled ! we've gained Damascus but to lose it, 
Unless thy valiant arm restore the day ! 

KALED. 

How now, Abdallah \ why this great turmoil 1 

I come to bring thee news of victory ;- 

Ay, victory, Abdallah ! conquest too ! 

The imperial army we have hewn in pieces ; 

A hundred thousand Christians are destroyed, 

Save the poor remnant that escaped to carry 

Their miserable remnant to Corinth. 

{Sarcastically,) And thou hast won the city in my absence \ 



104 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT V. 

ABDALLAH. 

Caloiis betrayed it to us. 

KALED. 

Fool ! 'twas thou 
That wast betrayed ; — nay, I have heard it all. 
So much for thy great generalship, Abdallah ! 
Know then, I've stormed the western gate, even now 
While thou wast fooling with that Christian dog. 
Dera is making havoc like a wolf 
That's broke into a fold. Onward, and join him ! 
I'll hunt this Caloiis, wer't but for his head 
To wear upon my spear, when I return 
Triumphant to the Caliph. 

ABDALLAH. 

I have done wrong — 
But Abubekir may forgive the offence. 

KALED. 

This is no time for grief; — truce to complaining. 

Abdallah ! I forgive thee in the joy 

That vanquishes my bosom. Thou hast gained 

Merit for good intention. On to battle ! 

Paradise! Paradise! [Exeunt, 



105 



t SCENE III.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 

SCENE III. 



A street in Damascus : — Greek soldiers flying, Caloils 
rallying them,. 

CALOUS. 

Stand ! as ye value life ! for God's sake stand ! 

What ! shall the glitter of a thousand moons 

Strike madness on your reason ? Hear me, soldiers ! 

Death gapes for your whole city — there he stands 

With appetite insatiate as your fears ; 

A moment, and 'tis lost — a chance remains ; 

Look how they hem us in ! by Christ's own blood, 

Let not my heart burst with this base confusion ! 

We must break through a legion of steel men 

To ransom the lost city — save your daughters ! 

Look at me, soldiers ! I am yet your General ! 

True as this steel, dark with the foeman's gore ; — ^1 

Or shall f go alone ] — Ignoble slaves ! 

SOLDIERS. 

Lead us on ! lead us on ! Calous and victory ! 

CALOUS. 

Oh, now ye feel the blood of all your sires 
Tingling, as true blood should ! — Grasp your bright blades 
Once more — brace every sinew, soldiers ! but once more ! 
And strike for liberty ! [Exit, 

[Soldiers follow shouting. 



.* 



106 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT V. 



SCENE IV. 



St, MichaeVs square. — Entei' Kdled. 



Now, by the tomb of Mecca, these foul dogs 
Are fang'd like desert lions. — My good blade 
Has drunk more life than a Sirocco blast, 
Yet still it thirsteth^ Let me breathe awhile. 
Enter Calous, 

Ha ! Infidel ! — I have thee then, at last ! 
Bow to the Prophet ! or I'll cleave thy scull, 
Which better had been turbaned. Yield thee, slave ! 

CALOUS. 

Bow to the Cross, proud Moslem ! thou shalt find, 

In this dark moment of necessity. 

How faint a light imposture yields its vassals ! j|r 

KALED. 

Have at thee. Christian dog ! 

[ Tliey fight, and exeunt fighting, Calous driving 
Kaled, — whiJe an alarm is heard, with the cry 
of " the standard, Kaled ! the standard ! rescue ! 
rescue /" 



SCENE IV.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 107 

Enter Euphron and Lucretius, 

EUPHRON. 

This is the place ! our friends are gathering fast ; 
The square is thronged with most determined men : 
I never knew their spirit till this hour. 

[Sounds of battle. 
See there, Lucretius ! how the battle rages ! 
Look how those two in front flash at each other ! 
That Saracen is Kaled, by my life ! 

Look there ! he's down ! he's down ! victory ! victory ! — 
Gods ! what a blow was that the hero gave him ! 
By Mars ! it is the noble CaloLis ! 
Caloiis returned ! lie never lias revolted ! 
Thou art no traitor ! Onward, Caloiis ! 
Damascus yet is free ! join him, Lucretius ! 
Keep thy sword hot, my friend ! [Exit Lucretius, 

Enter a Messenger, 

How now, what news ] 

MESSENGER. 

Our friends are everywhere victorious ; 
Kaled is dead, — and by the eastern gate, 
Where Dera bears the hottest of the fiffht. 
Our arms are doing prodigies of valour ! 

EUPHRON. 

This is, indeed, most glorious — tell me, now, 



108 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT V. 

If thou canst tell, aught that concerns my daughter ; — 
I've searched even pented avenues to find her, 
And all in vain. 

MESSENGER. ... 

I heard a soldier say, ^ 

Who brought despatches from the western tower. 
That she was in the thickest of the fight, ^ 

Like to an Amazonian maid, and leading 
The common people bravely in the war» 
And with an energy that ne'er before 
Was heard of among women. 

EXJPHRON. 

Oh, Athenia I 
This last blow was too much. Could I undo 
The tangle in this thread of misery, 
And make it straight again, I'd give up life. 
With its immortal hopes, to save my daughter, 
" Oh, I must save my lost Athenia, 
Or perish in the effort ! {Exeunt. 



*:? 



SCENE v.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 109 



SCENE V. 



<i 



^ 



By the Western Tower. 

9' [Flourish of Trumpets, 

Enter Dera and Calous fighting. They make several turns, 

and Calous drives him out. 

Enter Athenia, armed with a short sword, 

ATHENIA. 

Oh, my lost country — wretched, fallen Damascus ! 

How art thou set a mark for every shaft 

That wings misfortune's quiver ! Now, could I 

Find out that monster, Kaled, this right arm, 

Nerved by thy power, Holy Omnipotence ! 

Would search the tyrant's heart, with this good blade, 

And liberate my country. Caloiis ! Galo'ds ! 

Oh, what a chance was lost of being great, 

When thou didst play the traitor to our hopes. 

And sell thy wretched country ! 

Enter Calous almost breathless, 

CALOUS. 

Oh, Athenia ! %. 

Armed ! 

ATHENIA. 

Robber ! thou'st stolen th' habiliments of war 

10 



110 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT V. 

To sanctify thy murders ! hence, and leave me ! 

CALOUS. 

Hast thou not seen thy father, my Athenia I 
Has he not told thee of the sacrifice 1 
I am thy friend, Athenia ! thy own 
True-hearted Caloiis ! 

ATHENIA, 

Thou, my Calous ! 
'Tis false, perfidious varlet ! he so named, 
Was noble, generous ; selfishness, in vain 
Searched his great heart to find companionship. 
But thou ! — there's not a reptile which the sun 
Engenders on the slimy banks of Nile, 
That is not nobler than thy hateful self; 
Hence, recreant, hence ! I loathe thee ! 

CALOUS. 

What dire distemper so misshapes the truth ] 
Look on me, dear Athenia, 'tis the same 
True heart that loved thee well, and still loves. 
Merciful Heaven ! , 

ATHENIA. 

Call not on Heaven, thou traitor ! 
Hast thou not sacrificed thy plighted faith 1 
Hast thou not played a coward's part ] — nay, start not ; 
Hast thou not sold thy country, for the sake 
Of wreaking thy poor vengeance 1 J| 



SCENE v.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. Ill 

CALOUS. 

No, by Heaven ! 

ATHENIA. 

Infamous liar ! away, I will not hear thee. 

CALOUS. 

Oh, my own love ! most truly I forgive 

This transport that thine ignorance has kindled ! 

Time will explain, Athenia ! — thy father 

Will tell thee, my Athenia, I am true. 

Nay, turn not thus away thine angel face, 

Thou shalt not leave me thus ; — nay, frown not on me ! 

For 1 do claim thee my affianced bride, 

And hold thee to my panting bosom, thus ! 

[Emhracing her, 

ATHENIA. 

Die, then, perfidious traitor ! for a bride 

Take to thy bosom this true steel, — it loves thee ! 

[Stabs him — Calous falls. 
Now, hush thy tbund^er I 

CALOUS. 

Athenia, I forgive thee — it is just — 
I loved thee — worshipped thee — thou didst predict — 
Farewell! — [Dies, 

Enter Euphron, 

EUPHRON. 

My daughter ! joy to thee ! joy to Damascus ! 



112 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT V. 

Kaled is dead ! 

ATHENIA. 

Now, then, just Heaven, I thank thee ! 

EUPHRON, (discovering the body,) 
How, Calo lis slain ! — oh, terrible decree ! 
Who has done this 1 

ATHENIA. 

Thy daughter ! 

EUPHRON. 

Thou^ Athenia ! 

ATHENIA. 

Was't not done nobly ? Brutus, in old Rome, 
Saw with prophetic eye this glorious deed, 
And emulating my self-sacrifice, 
Slew his own son for justice ! 

EUPHRON. 

Oh, most cruel, 
Mad, and misguided girl, how couldst thou do it ! 

ATHENIA. 

Would'st thou have had the daughter of thy blood 
Contaminated by the foul embrace 
Of a vile traitor ? I had shunned him, father ; 
But he pursued me, and though spurned, abhorred. 
He caught me as the serpent the high priest. 



* 



SCENE v.] ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS. 113 

Laocoon ; and in his hateful fold, 

Claimed me as his affianced ! 'twas too much ! 

Father, the spirits of a hundred sires 

Hissed me to very madness, — and Damascus 

Howled in my ears, Revenge ! — the voice of God 

Burst over me in thunder — and I slew him ! 

EUPHRON.. f 

'Twas a rash deed ! — oh, had I trusted Heaven, 
Caloiis had lived to bless thee ! 

Enter Lucretius, 

Look, Lucretius ! 
See how the blood of Syria stains the ground. 
Caloiis is slain — Athenia is a murderess ! 

LUCRETIUS. 

Mysterious Providence ! 
Euphron, I come the herald of despair ! ^ 

EUPHRON. 

What new calamity T 

LUCRETIUS. 

Werdan is dead I 
The imperial army routed — and the foe f^ 

Are masters of the city ! 

EUPHRON. 

Then 'tis finished L 
There is no other step to misery ! — 

10* 



# 



114 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT V. 

Athenia ! it was wrong to hide from thee, 
The clue to this great labyrinth of woes ; 
But we have trusted in our own weak power, 
And Heaven that saw our great impurity. 
Has left our weak designs to work us ill ! 
'Twas 1 who urged on Caloiis to the deed, 
That Heaven has stampt with dire disapprobation ! 

ATHENIA. 

Oh, misery ! — 

EUPHRON. 

Patience ! for the tale, though sad» 
Is quickly told. 

ATHENIA. 

Ah, wo is me I 

ETTPHRON. 

Famine ! 
As well ye know, had joined the foe to crush us* 
Exhausted, spiritless, and destitute. 
Our people grew licentious in their rage, 
And hatched rebellion. In this trying hour, 
Kaled, who knew our weakness, had resolved 
On one great effort — one decisive blow — 
And yesterday, Damascus was to have fallen. ^^ 

In vain had we despatched our messengers 
To Corinth ; till at last, but yesterday. 



SCENE v.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 115 

An arrow thrown o'er the wall, brought us intelligence 
From Werdan, that his army would be here 
This hour ! — Thou do'st turn pale, Athenia ! 

ATHENIA. 

Goon! 

EUPHRON. 

The message intimated stratagem. 
There was presented the alternative 
Of falling, or of practising deceit ; 
Expediency pointed out the last. 
An instrument was wanting, and I chose — 

ATHENIA. 

Oh no, thou couldst not do it — say not, father, 
Say not 'twas Caloiis ! 

LUCRETIUS. 

Oh, wond'rous strange ! 

EUPHRON. 

At first his generous nature did oppose 
The action as unworthy — but I urged, 
(Pardon me, dearest daughter, for the truth,) 
Thy unprotected innocence, — his love— 
And he at last consented. 

(ATHENIA, (Turning to the body.) 
Murdered innocence ! 



■^t 



116 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT V. 

EUPHRON. 

Damascus was betrayed but seemingly — 

Th' imperial army at this very hour, ^ 

Was to have turned the sighs of this sad city 

To shouts of triumph — and the rich reward 

For such a noble deed, — thy hand, Athenia ! 

ATHENIA. 

Where are thy lightnings — Heaven ] 

EUPHRON, (turning to the body.') 

Oh, noble nature ! 
How hast thou been requited for thy love ! 

ATHENIA. 

Father ! thou'st done a deed to damn thee ever ! 
It was not I — ' 'twas thou that slew my Caloiis ! 
Where sleeps the thunder ] vengeance thou art dead. 
Strike at the murderer ! there ! have at him ! there ! 
Not him — not him I it was not he that did it ! 
Rather strike here ! — oh, my own murdered husband ! 

[Throws herself on his body, 
A flourish of trumpets. — Abdallah and Dera enter on both 
sides with soldiers, and fill the stage, 

DERA. 

Here is the Prefect — yield thy neck, base Christian ! ^i 

ABDALLAH, (rushing forward,) 
Stand back \ by great Mohammed, stay thine arm ! 



§ 



4, 



SCENE v.] ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 117 

I am thy General now — I do command thee ! — 
Damascus is our own — no more of blood ! 

jflL Lucretius and EupTiron support AtTienia, wTio partly rises, 

ATHENIA. 

The day of doom is come ! oh, horror ! horror ! 
How the sea waves with blood, and the red torrent 
Surges and heaves with life and death commingling ! 
The graves give up their dead — and shrouded skeletons 
Scream midst the desolation ! hush — sh — hush — sh •— 
Hark ! how the damned are wailing — I'll not hear them ! 

EUPHRON, (endeavouring to raise her,) 
Athenia ! 

ATHENIA. 

Let us alone ! let us alone ! death shall not part us thus. 
They have deceived us, Caloiis ! thou art mine ! 
Death shall not part the faithJul ! 

EUPHRON. 

Oh, my daughter ! 
ATHENIA, (rising,) 
Look ! how the heavens open ! oh, how deep ! 
How bright ! how bright ! the angels, oh, the angels ! 
Hark, how they sing ! oh, rapturous harmony ! 
See how they bear him up upon their wings, 
And circle him with glory ! — stay ! oh, stay ! 



118 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. [aCT V. 

Blest seraphim ! — Athenia would go with you ! 

[Her head droops, and she falls. Raising herself, 
with a smile, looking upward. 

Father ! receive my spirit ! [Dies. 

[They bend mournfully around her, while the 
curtain falls. 



THE END. 



BIANCA VISCONTI. 



yX>* 



BIANCA VISCONTI; 



OR 



Th(B BLmmTt ©w(Birtm.§k(Bi,o 



/ 

BY N. P. \A/^ILLIS. 



NE\A^-YORK : 

PUBLISHED BY SAMUEL COLMAN, 

BROADWAY, 
1839. 



53008 



Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by 

S. CODMAN, 

In the Clerk's Office of the Pistrict Court of the United States, for the 

Southern District of New- York. 



N E w - Y o R K : 

Printed by Scatcherd & Adams, 
No. 38 Gold Street. 



TO HER 

WHOSE PRAISE IS THE FIRST SOUGHT AND THE 
DEAREST, 



TO HIS WIFE, 



THE AUTHOR DEDICATES THIS PLAY. 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 

Francesco Sforza — A Condottiero of the \Uh century ^ 

afterwards Duke of Milan, 
Brunorio — His Lieutenant. 
Sarpellione — Ambassador at Milan from Alfonso^ 

king of Naples, 
RossANO — A Milanese Captain, formerly companion 

in arms to Sforza. 
PAsauALi — A whimsical Poet. 

BiANCA ViscoNTi — Daughter of Philip Visconti,^ the 
bed-ridden Duke of Milan, andheir ess-apparent 
to the crown. 

GiULio — Her Page, afterwards discovered to he her 
brother and heir to the crown. 

FiAMETTA — Waiting Woman to Bianca, and partial 
to Pasquali. Lords of Council, Priest, Mes- 
sengers, Sentinels, ^c. 



* This eccentric Duke, the last of the Viscontis, passed the 
latter part of his life in utter seclusion, seen by no one but his 
physician. His habits were loathsome, and his character harsh 
and unnatural. 



« 



BIANCA VISCONTI: 

R 

THE HEART OVERTASKED. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I. 

IPasquali the poefs chamber, Fiametta mending his 

hose while he writes,'] 

FIAMETTA, 

Why dost thou never write verses upon me ? 

PASQUALI. 

Didst thou ever hear of a cauliflower struck by light- 
ning ? 

FIAMETTA. 

If there were honesty in verses, thou wouldst sooner 
write of me than of Minerva thou talkst of. Did she 
ever mend thy hose for thee ? 

PASdUALI. 

There is good reason to doubt if Minerva ever had hose 
on her leg. 



10 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT I. 

FIAMETTA. 

There now! She can be no honest woman ! I thought 
so when thou saidst she was most willing at night. 

PASaUALI. 

If thy ignorance were not endless, I would instruct 
thee in the meanings of poetry. But thou'lt call Jupiter 
a cow driver, till the thunderbolt thou takest for a bunch 
of twigs, strike thee dead for profanity. This once un- 
derstand : Minerva is no woman, but wit ; and when the 
poet speaks of unwilling Minerva, he talks of sluggish 
wit — that hath nothing to do with chastity. 

FIAMETTA. 

Are there two names for all things then, Master Pas- 
quali ? 

PASaUALI. 

Ay — nearly. 

FIAMETTA. 

What is the learned name for honest wife ? 

PASaUALI. 

Spouse. 

FIAMETTA. 

When shall I be thy spouse then ? 

PASaUALI. 

When thou canst make up thy mind to forego all hope 
of living in poetry. 



0^ 



SCENE I.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 11 

FIAMETTA. 

Nay, if I am not to be put in verse, I may as well have 
a plain man for a husband. 

PASaUALI. 

If thou wouldst be put inverse, thou shalt have no hus- 
band at all. 

FIAMETTA. 

Now, wilt thou tell me why — in good common words, 
Master Pasquali ? 

PASQUALI. 

Thus : — dost thou think Petrarch had e'er made Laura 
so famous if she had been honestly his wife ? 

FIAMETTA. 

An she were thrifty, I think he might. 

PASQUALI. 

I tell thee no ! His sonnets had then been as dull as the 
praises of the just. No man would remember them. 

FIAMETTA. 

Can no honest women be famous then ? 

PASaUALI. 

Virtue disqualifies. There is no hope for her in poetry 
if she be not a sinner. Mention me the most famous 
woman in history. 

FIAMETTA. 

Helen of Troy, in the ballad, I think. ' 



12 BIANCAVISCONTI. [acT I. 

PASaUALI. 

Wouldst thou be more virtuous than she ? 

FIAMETTA. 

Nay — that were presumption. 

*' PASaUALI. 

Knowst thou why she is sung in an Iliad ? I will tell 
thee : being the wife to Menelaus, she ran away with 
the prince of Troy. 

FIAMETTA. 

Then is it a shame to remember her. 

PASaUALI. 

So thou sayst in thy ignorance. Yet for that sin she 
hath been remembered near three thousand years. Look 
through all poetry, and thou'lt find it thrives upon making 
sinners memorable. To be famous, thou must sin. Wilt 
thou qualify ? 

[A rap at the door.'] 

PAGE. 

Master Pasquali ! Master Pasquali ! 

FIAMETTA. 

& Holy Virgin ! it is my mistress's page. An' I be found 
here now, I were as qualified as Helen of Troy. 

[^She conceals herself. Enter the Page.] 

PASaUALI. > 

How now, Master Giulio! Thou'rt impatient. 



SCENE I.J BIANCA VISCONTI. 13 

PAGE. 

Zounds, Pasquali ! If 'thou hadst been a prince, 1 had 
not been kept longer at the door. 

PASaUALI. 

If thou wert of age to relish true philosophy, I could 
prove to thee that the poet were the better waited for of 
the two. But what is thy errand ? 

PAGE. 

A song — I want a new song! 

PASaUALl. 

To what tune? 

PAGE. 

To a new tune on the old theme. Could I tell thee a 
secret without danger now! Hast thou ne'er a cat that 
will mew it out ? 

PASQUALI. 

No! not even a wall that has ears. What is thy 
news ? 4 

PAGE. 

My mistress Bianca hath lost all taste for my singing ! 

PASQUALI. j^, 

A pin's head might pay for that news. 

PAGE. 

But, good Pasquali, wilt thou not write me a new 

song ? 



# 



14 EIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT I. 

PASaUALI. 

Upon what theme ? 

PAGE. 

Sforza — still Sforza ! But it must be melancholy. 

PAS aU ALL 

Why melancholy ? 

PAGE. 

Did I not tell thee once in confidence that she loved 
him? 

PASaUALL 

Ay — and I writ a song in his praise. 

PAGE. 

I now tell thee in confidence that she hath lost him ; 
for she is to marry Lionel of Ferrara ! 

PASaUALL 

Here's news indeed. 

PAGE. 

It's the Duke's will, and my Lady is grieved to the de- 
gree I tell thee. She'll have none of my music. Wilt 
thou write me the song? 

PASaUALL 

^ Must it be mournful, say you ? 

PAGE. 

Ay— as the jug-jug of her nightingale. She's full of 
tears. Wilt thou write it now? Shall I hold the ink 
while thou writest it ? 



SCENE I.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 15 

PASaUALI. 

Bless the boy's wits ! Dost thou think songs are made 
like pancakes, by turning the hand over? 

PAGE. 

■- Why, is't not in thy head ? 

PASaUALI. 

Ay — it is. 

PAGE. 

And how long will it take thee to write eight lines upon 
parchment ? 

PASaUALI. 

Not long — if Minerva were wiUing. 

PAGE. 

Shall I have it by vespers then? 

PASaUALI. 

Ay — if thou wilt leave me presently. 

PAGE. 

Farewell then I Let it be melancholy, good Pasquali. 
\_Fiametta comes ouf] 

FIAMETTA. 

Now must I hurry to my Mistress, ere that monkey- 
page gets to the palace. 

PASaUALI. 

Stands he well with her? 



16 BIANCA VISCONTI. [aCT I. 

FIAMETTA. 

If he were Uer born child, she could not love him more. 
She fancies the puppy-dog has an eye of her color. Good 
day. Master Pasquali ! 

PASaUALI. 

Stay ! will she marry this Lionel, think you ? 

y? FIAMETTA. 

Can you know any thing by tears ? 

PASaUALI. 

Not so much by a woman's — but doth your lady weep'? 

FIAMETTA. 

Ay — like an aqueduct ! 

PASaUALI. 

Then it's more like she loves than hates him \ 

FIAMETTA. 

Now, enlighten me that I 

PASaUALL 

Thus : — a woman, if she be a lady (for clowns like 
thee, are of a constitution more dull and reasonable ;) — 
a lady I say, hath usually in her composition, two spirits 
— one angelical, the other diabolical. Now, if you siir 
me up the devil, he will frown — but if you touch me the 
angel, he will weep ! If your lady weep, therefore, it is 
more like this match hath waked the angel than stirr'd 
the devil — ^^for I never saw woman yet, who, if her heart 



S-CENE ij BIANCAVISCONTI. 17 

were crossed, would not play the devil ere she knock'd 
under ! 

FIAMETTA. 

How canst thou think such brave thoughts on what 
does not concern thee ! 

PASaUALI. 

Does it concern me if I shall live for ever ? 

FIAMETTA. 

Surely it doth ! 

PASaUALI. 

By what shall I live then ? 

FAIMETTA. 

By faith in the catechism, I think I 

PASaUALI. 

By poetry, I tell thee ! And now digest this paradox I 
Tho' poetry be full of lies, it is unworthy to be called po- 
etry if it be not true as prophecy. 

FIAMETTA. 

But how can that be true which is false ? 

PASaUALI. 

I will show thee ! Thy lady's page would have a song:, 
now, full of lamentation for Sforza. In it, I should say, 
the heavens wept — (which would be a lie)— that the 
winds whispered mournfully his name, (which would be 
a lie,) and that life without him were but music out of 
tune, (which would be a consumed lie !) Yet if she loved 
2* 



18 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT ?. 

Sforza, see you not that my verses, which are nothing 
but lies, have a poetic truth. When if she love him 
not — they are poetically false ! 

FIAMETTA. 

^Tis like thy flatteries then! When thou sayst my 
cheek is like a peach, it is true, because it hath down 
upon it, and so hatha peach — yet it is false— because my 
eheek hath no stone in it L 

PASaUALI. 

Let me taste the savour of that peach. Thou art wi- 
ser than I thought thee. 

riAMETTA. 

I must go now. 

PASaUALI. 

Find me out if she love him ! I would fain write no 
more verses on Sforza — whom I hate that he hath only 
a brute courage, and no taste for poesy. Now, Lionel's 
father was Petrarch's friend, and thy lady loving my ver- 
ses, it were more convenient if she loved Lionel, who 
would love them too. Go thy ways now. 

FIAMETTA. 

Farewell, Master Pasquali ! 

PASaUALI. 

Stay — there be rude men in this poor quarter, I will- 
come with thee to the piazza. Come along, Mistress I 



SCENE II.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 



m 



SCENE II. 

[ The Camp before Milan. The tent of Sforza at the 
side and watchfves in the distance. Enter Sforza 
and Brunorio.'] 

SFORZA. -^X 

Is the guard set? 

BRUNORIO., 

All setj my Lord ! 

SFORZA. 

And blaze 
The watch-fires where I ordered? 

BRUNORIO. 

Every one. 
Hold you your purpose, Sir? 

SFORZA. 

To-night, at twelve, 
I will set on ! This fickle Duke of Milan 
Has changed for the las^ time. Brunorio ! 

BRUNORIO. 

You seem disturb'd, Sir. 

SFORZA. 

I would have to-night 
The best blood up that ever rose for Sforza. 
Are your spears resolute ? 



20 BIANCAVISCONTI. [ACT I- 

BRUNORIO. 

As yourself, my Lord ! 

SFORZA. 

We'll sleep in Milan then. By heaven, I know not 
Why I have waited on the changing pleasure 
Of this old Duke so long. 

BRUNORIO. 

Twelve years ago 
He promised you his daughter. 

SFORZA. 

Did he not ? 
And every year he has renew'd and broken 
This promise of alliance. 

4Jv BRUNORIO. 

Can you hold 
Milan against the Florentine, my Lord ? 
'Tis said the fair Bianca is betroth'd 
To their ally Ferrara ! They will join 

Naples against you, and cry out " usurper !" 

« 

SFOltZA. 

Ay — I have thought on't. I'm the second Sforza ! 

Hhe first hew'd wood ! There lies enough to bar me. 

Were I another Csesar^ from authority ! 

'Tis by this whip I have been driv'n so long — 

'Tis by the bait of this old man's alliance 



SCENE 11.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 21 

I have for ten years fought the wars of Milan. 

They've fooPd me year by year, and still found means 

With their curs'd policy, to put me off — 

And, by the saints, they've reason. Could I point 

The world to such a thread twixt me and Milan 

As weaves a spider thro' the summer air, 

I'd hang a crown upon it. Once possessed 

Of a fair seat in Lombardy, my spears 

Would glisten in St. Mark's I 

BEUNORIO. 

And thence to Naples ! 

SFORZA. 

Ay— ^ with what speed we might ! My brave lieutenant. 
You echo my own thought ! 

[Enter a sentinel'] 

SENTINEL. m^- 

A flag of truce 
By torch-light comes from Milan. 

[Enter Sarpellione, in haste.'] 

SARPELLIONE. 

Noble Sforza! 
I've rudely used my privilege to seek you 1 

SFORZA. 

By right of office you are ever welcome. 

SARPELLIONE. 

If I might speak to you a timely word 
In haste and privacy ? 



22 BIANCAVISCONTI. [ACT I. 



SFOHZA. 

BrunoriOj leave us ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

A flag of truce comes presently from Milan 

With terms of peace. The Duke would give his daughter 

To save his capital. 

SFORZA. 

The Duke does well! 

SARPELLIONE. 

You'll wed her then ! 

SFORZA. 

If fairly ofFer'd me, 
Free of all other terms save peace between us, 
I'll wed her freely. 

SARPELLIONE. 

Then I pray you pardon ! 
You're not the Sforza that should be the son 
Of him who made the name ! 

SFORZA. 

Bold words, ambassador ! 
But you are politic, and speak advisedly. 
What bars my marriage with Duke Philip's daughter? 

SARPELLIONE. 

Brief — for this herald treads upon my heels — 
Bianca was not born in wedlock ! 



SCENE II.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 23 

SFORZA. 

WeUl 

SARPELLIONE. 

She's been betrothed to other suitors — 

SFORZA. 

Well! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Is't well that you can ne'er thro' her inherit 
The ducal crown ? Is't well to have a wife 
Who has made up her mind to other husbands — 
Who has been sold to every paltry prince 
Twixt Sicily and Venice ? 

SFORZA. 

Is that all? 

SARPELLIONE. 

No — nor the best of it. There lives a son^ 
By the same mother^ to the Duke of Milan. 

SFORZA, {seizing him by the arm,) 
Said you a son ? 

SARPELLIONE. 

A son ! — and — had I time — 

SFORZA. 

Without there ! Pray the embassy from Milan 
To grant me but a moment. 



■'^rtij^ 



^ BIANCAVISCONTI. 

[Turning to SarpeUione.] 
^. Is it sure ? 

SARPELLIONE. 

Upon the honor of my royal master. 
Who'll make it good. 

SFORZA. 

Have you authority 
For what you say ? 

SARPELLIONE. 

In court or camp, Alfonso 
Will prove this story true. His mother fled. 
As the world knows — in peril of her life — 
To Naples. 

SFORZA. 

From the jealousy of the Duke— 
I well remember. 

SARPELLIONE. 

Ere he could demand her 
From young Alfonso, newly king, she died ; 
But in her throes brought prematurely forth 
A son ; whom, fearing for his life, she hid, 
And rear'd him, ever like a Prince, till now. 

SFORZA. 

Some fourteen years. 



SCENE II.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 25 

SARPELLIONE. 

Scarce that — but he is forward. 
And feels his blood already. 

SFORZA, 

Say he does— 
What make you out of it to change my purpose ? 

SARPELLIONE. 

Seeing you cannot thrive by conquering Milan, 
Which Milan's allies will pluck back from you 
To put the prince upon his father's seat — 
My royal master wishes you forewarned. 

SFORZA. 

He's kind — if that is all ! 

SARPELLIONE. ^ 

He'd make a friend 
Of the best sword in Italy. 

SFORZA. 

What scheme 
Lies under this? 

SARPELLIONE. 

No scheme — but your own glory ! 
Your star stoops to the south. Alfonso's army 
Gathers at Capua to war on Florence ! 
(More earnestly.) He'll add Ravenna to your marquisate 
For but a thousand spears ! 



26 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT I. 

SFORZA. 

I'll take Ravenna 
Without his leave ! Admit the herald there ! 
No, Count ! your poHcy has overshot ! 
The King Alfonso needs no spears of mine — 
But he would have them farther off from Milan — 
A blind mole would see that ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

My Lord ! My Lord ! 

^ SFORZA. 

Hear me, Sarpellione ! I have been 

Too long the sport of your fine policy ! 

With promises of power and fair alliance 

I've fought for every prince in Italy— 

And against all, in turn ; now leagued with Venice 

To beat back Florence from the Brenta ; now 

With Florence against Milan ; then with Milan 

To drive the Tuscan home again, and all 

For my own glory , by some politic reason. 

I'll have a place, or I'll be in the track on't — 

Where the poor honor that my hand may pluck 

Shall be well garner'd. By Visconti's daughter 

I set my foot in Milan. My poor laurels, 

Such as they are, shall root there ! — and, by heaven, 

I'll find a way to make their branches flourish ! 

Call in the herald, there ! 



SCENE II.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 27 

SARPELLIONE. 

But Lionel, 
Prince of Ferrara, whom Bianca loves — 

SFORZA. 

Glory has been my mistress many years 
And will suffice me still. If it should chance 
Bianca loves another, 'tis an evil 
To wed with me, which I will recompense 
With chainless freedom after. In my glory 
She'll find a bright veil that will hide all errors, 
Save from the heart that pardons her. 

SARPELLIONE. 

Farewell ! 
You'll hear o' the young Prince soon 1 ^ 

SFORZA. 

I'U never wrong him — 
If there be one ! — Our stars will rise together ! 
There's room enough ! 

[Exit Sarpellione and enter Bossano.'] 

Fair welcome, brave Rossano ! 
I know your news. 

ROSSANO. 

The Duke sends greeting to you — 

SFORZA. 

And offers me his daughter — is't not so ? 



28 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT I. 

ROSSANO. 

Seeing your preparations as I came 
I marvel you anticipate so well! 

SFORZA. 

A bird i' th' air brings news, they say — but this 
Came by a serpent. How's the spear-wound now, 
You took for me at Pisa? Brave Rossano ! 
We'll break a lance once more in company. 
It warms my blood to find myself again 
O' the same side. Come out in th' open air ! 
We'll talk more freely, as we used to do. 
Over a watch-fire. Come out, old comrade ! 

\_Exeimt Sforza and Rossano^ 



SCENE III. 

L The apartment of Bianca. Fiametta embroidering ^ 
and the Page thrumming his guitar.'] 



I'd give my greyhound now — gold collar and silkea 
leash — to know why the Duke sent for my lady. 

FIAMETTA. 

Would yoUj Master Curiosity ? 



SCENIC m.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 29 

PAGE. 

Mistress Pert, I would — and thy acquaintance into the 
bargain. 

FIAMETTA. 

Better keep the goods you come honestly by. I would 
you knew as well how your mistress came by you. 

PAGE. 

I came to her from heaven — ^like her taste for my mu- 
sic. {Hums a tune.) 

FIAMETTA. 

Did you! do they make sacks in hearen? 

PAGE. 

There's a waiting woman's question for you ! Why 
sacks ? 

FIAMETTA. 

Because I think you came in one, like a present of a 
puppy -dog. 

PAGE. 

Silence, dull pin-woman ! here comes my taistress ! 

[ Takes off his cap as Bianca enters. She loalks across 

the stage without heeding her attendants.'} 

BIANCA. 

To marry Sforza ! 

My dream come true ! my long, long cherish'd dream !^ 

The star come out of heaven that I had worshipp'd! 

3* 



30 BIANCAVISCONTI. ^ [aCT I. 

The paradise I built with soaring fancy 
And filled with rapture like a honey-bee 
Dropp'd from the clouds at last ! Am I awake ? — 
Am I awake, dear Giulio ? 

PAGE. 

{Half advancing to her,) Noble Mistress ! 

BIANCA. 

Thank God they speak to me ! It is no dream ! 
It was this hand my father took to tell me — 
It was with these lips that I tried to speak — 
It was this heart that beat its giddy prison 
As if th' exulting joy new-sprung within it 

Would out and fill the world ! 

Wed him to-morrow I 

So suddenly a wife ! Will it seem modest. 

With but twelve hours of giddy preparation 

To come a bride to church ! Will he remember 

I was ten years ago affianced to him ? 

I have had time to think on't 1 Oh, I'll teU him — 

When I dare speak I'll tell him — how I've lov'd him \ 

And day and night dream'd of him, and thro' all 

The changing wars treasured the solemn troth 

Broke by my father ! If he listens kindly, 

I'll tell him how I fed my eyes upon him 

In Venice at his triumph — when he walk'd 

Like a descended god beside the Doge, 

Who thanked him for his victories, and the people^ 



SCENE III.J BIANCAVISCONTI. 31 

From every roof and balcony, by thousands 
Shouted out " Sforza ! Live the gallant Sforza !" 
I was a child then^ — but I felt my heart 
Grow, in one hour, to woman ! 

PAGE. 

Would it please you 
To hear my new song, Lady ? 

BIANCA. 

No, good Giulio ! 
My spirits are too troubled now for music. 
Get thee to bed ! Yet stay ! hast heard the news ? 

PAGE. 

Is't from the camp ? 

BIANCA. 

Ay — Sforza's taken prisoner 1 

PAGE. 

I'm vex'd for that ! 

BIANCA. 

Why vex'd ? 

PAGE. 

In four years more 
I shall bear sword and lance. There'll be no Sforza 
To kill when I'm a man ! Who took him, Lady 1 

BIANCA. 

A blind boy, scarcely bigger than yourself 3 



32 B lANCA VISCONTI. [aCT X. 

And gave hinij bound, to me ! In brief, dear Giulio ! 
Not to perplex those winking eye-lids more. 
The wars are done, and Sforza weds to-morrow 
Your happy mistress ! 

PAGE. 

Sforza ! We shall have 
A bonfire then ! 



Ay — twenty ! 

PAGE. 

And you'll live 
Here in the palace, and have masks and gambols 
The year round, will you not? 

BIANCA. 

My pretty minion, 
You know not yet what love is ! Love's a miser, 
That plucks his treasure from the prying world 
And grudges e'en the eye of daylight on it ! 
Another's look is theft — another's touch 
Robs it of all its value. Love conceives 
No paradise but such as Eden was 
With two hearts beating in it. 

{^Leaves the Page, and walks thoughtfully aioay.'] 

Oh, rU build 
A home upon some green and flowery isle 
In the lone lakes, where we will use our empire 



SCENE III.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 33 

Only to keep away the gazing world. 
The purple mountains and the glassy waters 
Shall make a hush'd pavilion with the sky. 
And we two in the midst will live alone, 
Counting the hours by stars and waking birds. 
And jealous but of sleep ! To bed, dear Giulio ! 
And wake betimes. 

PAGE. 

Good night, my dearest Lady ! 

BIANCA. 

To bed, Fiametta! I have busy thoughts, 
That needs will keep me waking. 

FIAMETTA. 

Good night. Lady. 

BIANCA. 

Good night, good night ! The moon has fellowship 
For moods like mine. I'll forth upon the terrace, 
And watch her while my heart beats warm and fast. 



END OP THE FIRST ACT. 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. 

[ The square of Milan. The front of the cathedral 
on the right. People kneeling round the steps, and 
the organ heard within. Enter Pasquali and Fia- 
onetta in haste.'] 

FIAMETTA. 

Now, Master Pasquali ! said I not we should be too 
late ? 

PASQUALI. 

Truly, there seems no room ! 

FIAMETTA. 

And I her first serving- woman ! If it were my own 
wedding I should not grieve more tohavemiss'd it. You 
would keep scribbling, scribbling, and I knew it was past 
twelve. 

PASaUALI. 

Consider, Mistress Fiametta ! I had no news of this 

marriage till the chimes began ; and the epithalamium 

must be writ! I were shamed else, being the bard ot 
Milan. 



SCENE I.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 35 

FIAMETTA. 

The what, of Milan ? 

PASaUALI. 

The bard, I say ! Come aside, and thou shalt be con- 
soled, ril read thee my epithalamium. 

FIAMETTA. 

Is it something to ask money of the bridegroom ? 

PASQUALI. 

Dost thou think I would beg ? 

FIAMETTA. 

Nay — thou'rt very poor ! 

[PASaUALI. 

Look thee, Mistress Fiametta ! that's a vulgar error, 
thou hadst best be rid of. I, whom thou callest poor, am 
richer than the Duke. 

FIAMETTA. 

Now if thou'rt not out of thy ten senses, the Virgin 
bless us. 

PASaUALI. 

I'll prove it even to thy dull apprehension. Answer 
me truly. How many meals eats the Duke in a day ? 

FIAMETTA. 

Three, I think, if he be well. 



36 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT II. 

PASaUALI. 

So does Pasquali ! How much covering has he? 

FIAMETTA. 

Nay — what keeps him warm. 

PASQUALI. 

So has Pasquali ! How much money carries he on 
his person ? 

FIAMETTA. 

None, I think. He is a Duke, and needs none. 

PASaUALI. 

Even so Pasquali! He is a Poet, and needs none. 
What good does him the gold in his treasury ? 

FIAMETTA. 

He thinks of it. 

PASaUALI. 

So can Pasquah ! What pleasure hath he in his sol- 
diers ? 

FIAMETTA. 

They keep him safe in his palace. 

PASaUALI. 

So they do Pasquali in his chamber. Thus far, thou'lt 
allow, my state is as good as his— and better — for I can 
think of his gold, and sleep safe by his soldiers, yet have 
no care of them. 



SCENE I.] B lANCA VI SC ON TI. 37 

FIAMETTA. 

I warrant he has troubled thoughts. 

PASQUALI. 

Thou sayst well. Answer me once more, and I'll 
prove to thee in what I am richer. Thou'st ne'er heard, 
I dare swear, of imagination. 

FIAMETTA. 

Is't a Pagan nation or a Christian ? 

PASaUALI, 

Stay — I'll convey it to thee by a figure. What were 
the value of thy red stockings over black, if it were al- 
ways night ? 

FIAMETTA. 

None. 

PASaUALI. 

What were beauty if it were always dark 1 

FIAMETTA. 

The same as none. 

PASaUALI. 

What were green leaves better than brown — diamonds 
better than pebbles — gold better than brass — if it were 
always dark? 

FIAMETTA. 

No better, truly. 



38 BIANCA VISCONTI. [acT 11. 

PASaUALI. 

Then the shining of the sun, in a manner, dyes youi* 
stockings, creates beauty, makes gold and diamonds, and 
paints the leaves green ? ^ 

FIAMETTA. 

I think it doth. 

PASQUALI. 

Now mark ! There be gems in the earth, qualities in 
the flowers, creatures in the air, the Duke ne'er dreams 
of. There be treasuries of gold and silver, temples and 
palaces of glorious work, rapturous music, and feasts the 
gods sit at — and all seen only by a sun, which, to the 
Duke, is black as Erebus. 

FIAMETTA. 

Lord! Lord ! Where is it. Master Pasquali? 

PASQUALI. 

In my head ! (Fiametta discovers signs of fear.) 
All these gems, treasuries, palaces, and fairy harmonies 
I see by the imagination I spoke of. Am I not richer 
now ? 

FIAMETTA, (retreating from him,) 

The Virgin help us ! He thinks there's a sun in 
his head I I thought to have married him, but he's mad ! 

[^She falls to weeping. 



SCENE l.J BIANCA VISCONTI. 39 

[ The cathedral is flung open, and the organ plays 
louder. The bridal procession comes out of church 
and passes across the stage. As they pass Pasquali^ 
he offers his epithalamium to Sforza,'] 

SFORZA. 

What have we here — petitions ? 

BIANCA. 

Nay, my Lord ! 
Pasquali's not a beggar. You shall read 
Something inventive here ! He's a clear fancy. 
And sings your praises well. Good chamberlain ! 
Bring him with honor to the palace ! Please you, 
My Lord, wilt on ! 

PAGE, (to Pasquali,) 
You'll come to the feast now, wont you 7 
We'll sit together, and have songs and stories, 
And keep the merriest end on't ! 

lAs the procession passes off, Sarpellione plucks Pas- 
quali by the sleeve, and retains him,] 

SARPELLIONE. 

A fair bride, sir ! 

PASaUALI. 

What would you, noble Count ? 

SARPELLIONE. 

The bridegroom, now, 



40 BIANCAVISCONTI. [ACT II. 

Should be a poet, like yourself, to know 
The worth of such a jewel ! 

PASaUALI. 

Haply so — 
But we are staying from the marriage feast — 

SARPELLIONE. 

One word ! (Pulls him aside.) Have you ambition ? 

PASdUALI. 

Like the wings 
Upon a marble cherub — always spread, 
But fastened to a body of such weight 
'Twill never rise till doomsday. I would drink 
Sooner than talk of it ! — Come on ! my Lord ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Signor Pasquali — I have mark'd you oft 
For a shrewd, rapid wit. As one who looks 
Oft on the sun, there needs no tedious care 
Lest the light break too suddenly upon you. 
Is it not so ? 

PASaUALI. 

Say on ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

You know how Naples 
Has over it a sky all poetry. 

PASdUALL 

T know it well. 



i 
JZ 



SCENE I.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 41 

SARPELLIONE. 

The radiant Giovanna 
Cherish'd Bocaccio and Petrarch there, 
And 'tis the quality of the air they breath'd— 
Alphonso feels it ! Brief and to the point ! 
My royal master sends for you. He'd have 
A galaxy around him ! 

PASaUALI. 

Noble Count ! 
\_Enter Page,'} 

PAGE. 

I'm sent to bid you to the feast, sirs ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Go! 
We'll follow straight. lEccit Page, 

This leaden-headed soldier 
Slights yoUj I see — He took you for a beggar ! 

PASdUALI. 

Humph ! 'tis his wedding day, and I forgive him I 

SARPELLIONE. 

You're used to wrong, I knew. 

PASaUALI. 

To-day, my lord^ 

I'm bent upon a feast — wake not a devil 

To mar my appetite ! 

4* 



42 EIANCAVISCONTI. [ ACT 11. 

SARPELLIONE. 

One single word ! 
This brainless spear-head would be Duke of Milan. 

PASaUALI. 

What ! while the Duke lives ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

While the Duke's son liveSy 
For there is one — I'll prove it when you will — 
And he will murder him to take liis crown. 

PASaUALI. 

How know you that ? 

SARPELLIONE. 

AlphonsOj king of Naples^ 
Would have this usurpation and this murder 
In time prevented. 

PAS aU ALL 

Howl 

SARPELLIONE. 

By Sforza's death. 
There's no way else — but 'tis a dangerous theme 
To talk on here — come out o' the way a little, 
And you shall have such reasons for the deed — 

PAsauALij {Jiings him from him with contempt) 

What " deed I" Dost take me for a murderer ? 



SCENE II.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 43 

My Lord ! I'm poor. I have a thirst for honors 
Such as you offered me but now, that burns 
Like fire upon my lips — I could be tortur'd 
Thro' twenty deaths to leave a name behind me. 
But nay, I prate — I'll turn not out to thee 
The golden inside of a soul of honor — 
{Leaving him.) When next you want a hand for a bad- 
deed, 
Look to your equals — there are those beneath you 
Who, from their darkling wells, see guiding-stars 
Far o'er your head, my Lord ! \^Exit, 

SARPELLIONE. 

Such men as this 
Do not betray e'en villains ! I shall find 
Another and a fitter. To the feast now ! 
And watch my time and means. [Exit, 



SCENE II. 

[^An ante-room^ with a feast seen beyond. Enter Sfor- 
za and Rossano,'] 

ROSSANO. 

I've a new culverin 
Invented here by the Duke's armorer ; 
Will you walk forth? 



44 BIANCA VISCONTI. [aCT II. 

SFORZA. 

Most willingly. Within there ! 
My helmet ! 

[Enter Bianca,'] 

BIANCA. 

Is there fresh alarm, my Lord ? 
You would not go abroad ? 

[She takes the helmitfrom the page as he brings it in.'] 

SFORZA. 

A little way, sweet 
To look at some new arms. 

BIANCA. 

To-morrow, surely. 
Will do as well. Here are some loving verses 
Writ on your marriage ! 

ROSSANO. 

I've the gonfalon 
Your father gave me at the siege of Parma. 
The rags wave yet ! 

SFORZA. 

I'd rather see a thread on't 
Than feast a hundred years ! 

BIANCA. 

My Lord, wiPt please you 



SCENE m.] BIANCA VISCQNTI. 45 

Come in, and hear the verses? There's a wine 
You did not taste, grown on Vesuvius ; 
Pray you come in ! 

ROSSANO. 

I've, in my tent, the sword 
Your father pluck'd from a retreating soldier 
To head the fight at Pisa. 'Tis well hack'd ! 

SFORZA. 

I'll come, Rossano ! 

( To Bianca.) Nay, sweet ! by your leave 
( Takes Ms helmet.) 
We'll go abroad a little ! You shall see us 
Betimes at supper. Keep the revels toward ! 
We'll taste your wine anon. Come, brave Rossano I 

[ They go out. Bianca looks after them thoughtfully 
a few moments^ and then walks hack slowly to the 
banquetting room.'] 



SCENE III. 

[ The ramparts at night. Enter Sforza and Rossano J[ 

ROSSANO. 

She's loving in her nature, and methought 
Seem'd griev'd when you came forth ! 



46 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT II. 

SFORZA. 

I should have thought so, 
But that I had some private information 
She lov'd another ! 

ROSSANO. 

You're perhaps ahused ! 

SFORZA. 

Nay — nay — hov^r should she love me ? Fm well on 
To my meridian, see you ! — a rough soldier — 
Who never learn'd the courtly phrase of love. 
And she — the simplest maiden in a cot, 
Is not more tender-eyed, nor has a heart 
Apter to know love's lesson ere 'tis time. 
She's loved ere now, Rossano ! 

ROSSANO. 

Haply so — 
Yet be not rude too rashly. 

SFORZA. 

Rude ! I'll make 
This forced link that policy puts on her 
Loose as a smoke-curl ! She shall know no master, 
And be no slave for me ! 

ROSSANO. 

You'll not neglect her ! 

SFORZA. 

The sun of woman's world is love, Rossano I 



SCENE III.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 47 

When that sun sets, if no unpitying cloud 
Trouble her sky, there rises oftentimes 
A crescent moon of memory, whose light 
Makes the dark pathway clear again. Bianca's 
May have gone down for me ! I'll be no cloud 
To mar the moon as well. 

ROSSANO. 

Stand by — there comes 
A footfall this way. ( They stand aside.) 

[Enter Pasquali, hiccicpping^ and talking to himself. 1 

PASaUALI. 

That wine was grown on Vesuvius. That's the rea- 
son it makes such an eruption. If it breaks out o' the top 
o' my head now-— as I think it will — for it gets hotter and 
hotter— I shall know if wit be in the brains or the belly. 

ROssANOj (aside.) 

Stay — my Lord! This is Pasquali, whose verses Bi- 
anca sometimes sings to her lute. Ten to one now but 
you may gather from his drunkenness if Bianca loves 
another. (Ross ano comes forward.) Good even, Mas- 
ter Pasquali ! 

. PASaUALI. 

That's an every day phrase — this is hoUday ! 

ROSSANO. 

A merry good even then ! 



48 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT II. ■ 

PASQUALI. i 

Ay — that's better ! For we're all merry — except the 

bride. And that's the way of it. i 

i 

ROSSANO. J 

What's the way of it? ! 

PASaUALI. 

See here ! Who is it that never weeps at a funeral? i 

ROSSANO. I 

You shall tell me. | 

• ] 
TAsauALi. ; 

The dead man, that hath most cause. 

i 

ROSSANO. 

And what hath that to do with a bridal ? 

PASaUALI. i 

A great deal. Of all people at a bridal, who should be 
most merry ? Why, the bride ! now I have just left a . 
bride that is sad enough for a funeral. 

ROSSANO. i 

For what cause, think you ? j 

i 
PASaUALI. 1 

i 
There are some things which can have but one cause. j 

There's but one cause for drunkenness, and there's but '\ 

one for grief on a wedding-day. \ 



SCENE III.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 49 

ROSSANO. 

And what's that? 

PASaUALI. 

Wine — causes drunkenness ! 

ROSSANO. 

And what causes grief in a bride? 

PASaUALI. 

Want of love for the bridegroom. 

ROSSANO. 

How know you that, sir ? 

PASQUALl. 

Listen to in-spi-ra-tion ! 

" When first young Lionel did catch mine eye, 
" Sforza, the valiant, pass'd unheeded by !" 

ROSSANO. 

Villain ! these are thine own lying verses ! 
PAsauALi, {pulling out his sword.) 

The figures of speech are lies of verse. But if thou 
say est it is a lie that Bianca loves Lionel best, thou liest 
in prose, and so, come on! (Attacks Rossano^ and 
Sforza comes forward^ and strikes up their swords,) 

SFORZA. 

Get home, thou drunkard 1 Come away, Rossano. 
He writes what's palatable, and but echoes 



50 EIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT II. 

That which is rung at court. She loved this Prince-— 
Sarpellione told me so before. 
We'll to the field and our old mistress, glory. 
Come on — we'll talk of battles and forget her. 

[Exeunt, 

PASaUALI. 

Fighting's not my vocation ; but I have an itching that 
way, and I'll after him. Halloo ! Were there two men ? 
I thmk there were two. The last man called me a drunk- 
aid ! That's no offence ! a poet may be a drunkard ! But 
" villain !" that's incompatible, and must be prick'd back. 
Halloo I [Exit. 



SCENE IV. 

[Bianco' s chamber at midnight. She sits on a couch 
in a white undress, and Sforza beside her in his 
armor.'] 

BIANCA. 

Dost think this ring a pretty one, my Lord ? 

SFORZA. 

Ay, 'tis a pretty ring ! I have one here 

Marancio gave me — Giacomo Marancio. 

The ring his wife sent — but you've heard the story? 



SCENE IV.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 51 

BIANCA. 

I think I never heard it. 

SFORZA. 

She's a woman 
The heart grows but to speak of. She was held 
A hostage by the Milanese, (I pray you 
Pardon the mention,) when, twixt them and me 
Marancio held a pass. Her life was threatened 
If by his means I crossed the Adige. She — 
(Brave heart ! I warm to speak of her !) found means 
To send to him this ring; wherein is writ 
" He who loves most, loves honor best." You'll see it 
Here o' th' inside. 

BIANCA. 

Did you see this Lady ? 

SFORZA. 

I hazarded a battle three days after 

With perilous odds, only to bring her off— 

And would have sold my life for't. 

BIANCA. 

Did you see her ? 

SFORZA. 

I gave her to Marancio when I took 
The ring of him. 

BIANCA. 

My Lord ! speak you so warmly 
Of any other woman ? 






52 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT IL 

SFORZAj (rising and taking his helmet.) 
Nay, I know not. 
There are some qualities that woman have 
Which are less worthy, but which warm us more 
Than speaking of their virtues. I remember 
The fair Giovanna in her pride at Naples. 
Gods ! what a light enveloped her ! She left 
Little to shine in history — but her beauty 
Was of that order that the universe 
Seenrd govern'd by her motion. Men look'd on her 
As if her next step would arrest the world ; 
And as the sea-bird seems to rule the wave 
He rides so buoyantly, all things around her— 
The glittering army, the spread gonfalon 
The pomp, the musitg, the bright sun in heaven— 
Seem'd glorious by her leave, 

EiANCA, (rising and going to the loindow,). 
There's emulation 
Of such sweet praise, my Lord ! Did you not heat 
The faint note of a nightingale? 

SFORZA. 

More like 
A far heard clarion, methought ! They change 
The sentinels perchance. 'Tis time Rossana 
Awaits me on the ramparts. 

BIANCA. 

Not to.night ! 



SCENE IV.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 53 

Go not abroad again to-night, my Lord ! 

SFORZA. 

For a brief hour, sweet ! The old soldier loves 
To gossip of the fields he's lost and vtron. 
And I, no less, to listen. Get to bed ! 
I'll follow you anon. 

lExit Sforza, 

BIANCA. 

He does not love me ! 
I never dream'd of this ! To be his bride 
Was all the Heav'n I look'd for ! Not to love me 
When I have been ten years affianced to him !— • 
When I have liv'd for him — shut up my heart, 
With every pulse and hope, for his use only — 
Worshipp'd — oh God ! idolatrously lov'd him 1 

Why has he sought to marry me ? Why still 
Renew the broken pledge my father made him 7 
Why, for ten years, with war and policy, 

Strive for my poor alliance? , . . 

He must love me. 

Or I shall break my heart ! I never had 
One other hope in life ! I never link'd 
One thought, but to this chain ! I have no blood- 
No breath — no being — separate from Sforza ! 
Nothing has any other name ! The sun 

Shined like his smile — the lightning was his glory— 
5* 



54 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT H. ' 

The night his sleep, and the hush'd moon watch'd o'er ^ 

him ; — ■ 
Stars writ his name — his breath hung on the flowers — 

Music had no voice but to say / love him, I 

And life no future, but his love for me ! \ 

Whom does he love ? Marancio's wife 7 He prais'd ! 

Only her courage ! Q,ueen Giovanna's beauty ? j 

'Tis dust these many years ! There is no sign j 

He loves another ; and report said ever | 

His glory was his mistress. Can he love? ^ 

Shame on the doubt 1 'Twas written in the ring . ; 

" He who loves most loves honor best " — and Sforza ;' 

Is made too like a god to lack a heart. j 

And so, I breathe again ! To make him love me | 
Is all my life now ! to pry through his nature, 

And find his heart out. Thafs wrapt in his glory ! \ 

I'll feed his glory then ! He praised Giovanna ; 
That she was royal and magnificent — 

Ay — that's well thought on, too ! How should an eye, j 

Dazzled with war and warlike pomp like Sforza's, \ 
Find pleasure in simplicity like mine ! 

{Looks at her dress.) 

I'm a Duke's daughter, and I'll wear the look on'l I \ 

Unlock my jewels and my costly robes, i 

And while I keep his show-struck eye upon me, \ 
Watch for a golden opportunity 

To build up his renown ! „ 

And so farewell 



SCENE IV.] EIANCA VISCONTI. 55 

The gentle world I've liv'd in ! Farewell all 
My visions of a world for -two hearts only — 
Sforza's and mine ! If I outlive this change, 
So brief and yet so violent within me, 
m come back in my dreams, oh childish world ! 
If not — a broken heart blots out remembrance. 
lExit into her bridal chamber, which is seen beyond 
on opening the door,'] 



END OF THE SECOND ACT, 



ACT III. 

SCENE I. 

lAn ante-chawMer of the palace. Brunorio leaning 
sullenly on his sword by the door. Enter Sarpel- 
Hone.'] 

SARPELLIONE. 

What's this ?— the brave Brunorio turned lackey ? 

BRUNORIO. 

Nay, Count ! I wait my turn. 

SARPELLIONE. 

If a civilian 
May have a judgment of a soldier's duty, 
You're out of place, sir ! This is not the camp ! 
You're not on guard here ! There's a difference 
Tv^ixt patience at your post, and kicking heels 
In my Lord's antechamber ! 

BRUNORIO. 

By the saints 
My own thought, noble Count ! As you came in 
I brooded on't. 



SCENE I.] BIANCAVISCONTI. ^^ 

Si^RPELLTONE, (aside.) 
(This blockhead may be turn'd 
To a shrev/d use now ! I have mark'd his brows 
Blackening upon Rossano, who usurps 
His confidence with Sforza. Could I seize 
The lightning in this jealous thunder-cloud — 
I'll see the depth on't.) Sforza knows you're here ? 

BRUNORIO. 

I had a message by a varlet page, 
Who bid me wait here. 

SARPELLIONE. 

By a page? Sacristie ! 
Fair treatment for a soldier ! Say, Brunorio ! 
What was't I heard of the Pope's standard-bearer 
Clove to the wrist ? 

BRUNORIO. 

Heard you of ihatj my Lord ? 
You see the weapon, here ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Was't thine, i' faith? 
I thought promotion had been won with service ! 
Was't thou, indeed ? I heard the King Alfonso 
Say 'twas the best blow and the bravest foUow'd 
He'd know in his time. How it came to his ears 
I know not — but he made the court ring with it ! 



5S BIANCA VISCONTI. [iCT III. 

BRUNORIO. 

The King? 

SARPELLIONE. 

How long since thou wast made lieutenant ? 

BRUNORIO. 

Five years come March ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Zounds ! how this peasant's son 
Treads merit in the dust ! Sforza keeps back 
His betters, brave Brunorio ! 

(Eossano passes out,) 
Ay — there I 
That man cuts off your sunshine, or I know 
Nothing of courts ! I, that have no part in it, 
Have mark'd how you are slighted for Rossano ! 
Forgive my touching on't! 'Tis my respect 
For a brave soldier makes me speak so freely. 
But were I of your counsel — 

BRUNORIO. 

Noble Count, 
My heart speaks thro' your lips. Since this Rossano 
Has had my Lord's ear, I've been thrust aside 
Like a disgrac'd hound. 

SARPELLIONE. 

Frankly, brave Brunorio ! 



SCENE I.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 59 

And between us,— I've heard you lightly mentioned 
By this ungrateful Sforza ! 

BRUNORIO. 

How, my Lord? 

SARPELLIONE. 

I would not tell you but to serve you in it — 
He told Rossano, there, that you had strength, 
And struck a sharp blow — and so did an axe ! 
But for your brains — and then he tossed his head — 
You've seen the scorn upon his lip ? 

BRUNORIO. 

Curse on him ! 
I've a sharp blow left yet — and brains enough 
To find a time to strike it ! Did you say 
Alfonso had spoke w^ell of me, my Lord ? 

SARPELLIONE. 

So well, that, on my own authority — 

'If you'd take service with a better master — 

You're Captain from this hour. 

BRUNORIO. 

My Lord ! So promptly 
I take your offer, that your commendations 
Will find no swifter bearer than myself 
To King Alfonso. 

SARPELLIONE. 

Stay — I'm not just now 
On the best terms with Sforza, and you'll see 



j 

60 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT III. | 

i 

With half a glance, that while he's here in Milan 

His best sword could not leave him for Alfonso, I 

J 
But it would throw suspicion upon me, i 

And touch my credit here. I'll write your warrant, ; 

Which you shall keep, and use it when you please. 

But for the present shut your bosom up, ! 

And bear your wrongs. Sforza awaits you now — i 

Go in. I'll see you as you pass again ! I 

[Exit Brunoi^io, \ 

He's a fit tool ! This o'er-ambitious Sforza 1 

Must not be Duke — and if I fret this cur | 

Till he will tear his master, why, 'twill save j 

A worthier hand the trouble on't. '\ 

l^Exit Sarpellione. \ 



SCENE 11. 

{Sforza discovered sitting- thoughtfully in his apart- 
ment. The Page curiously examining his sword.] 

SFORZA, (yawning.) 
This is dull work ! 



PAGE. 

My Lord, will't please you, teach me 



A trick of fence ? 



SCENE II.J BIANCAVISCONTI. 61 

SFORZA. 

Ay — willingly ! Hast thou 
A weapon in that needle-case of thine? 

PAGE, {drawing,) 
A weapon ! If I had your legs to stand on 
I'd give you all the odds twixt it and yours ! 
Look at that blade ! {Bends it.) Damascus ! 

[^Sforza smiles^ and unbuckles his scabbard.'] 

By the god^ 
You shall not laugh at me ! Fll give you odds, — 
With any thing to stand on ! 

SFORZA. 

Nay— I'll sit— 
And you shall touch me if you can ! Come on ! 
And see I do not rap you o'er the cockscomb ! 

PAGE. 

Have at you fairly ! Mind ! for I'm in earnest ! 
{They fence.) 

SFORZA. 

One — two — well thrust, by Jupiter ! Again ! 
One — two ! 

PAGEj {makes a lunge.) 
Three ! there you have it ! 
SFORZA, {starting up,) 

Zounds ! 
This is no play. 



62 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT III. 

PAGE. 

What ! does the needle prick? 
( Wipes it with his handkerchief.) 

SFORZA. 

'Tis a Damascus if thou wilt ! I'll laugh 
No more at it or thee. Come here, thou varlet ! 
Where got thy mistress such a ready hand 
As thou art ? 

PAGE, (fencing with the chair.) 
From an eagle's nest, my Lord ! 

SFORZA. 

I'll swear to it ! Thou hast the eagle's eye ! 
But tell me — what brave gentleman of Milan 
Has thy blood in his veins ? 

PAGE. 

I'm not of Milan. 
Sarpellione brought me here from Naples. 

SFORZA. 

Thou'rt not his child. I'll answer for't. 

PAGE. 

Not I! 
I hate him ! Come ! Wilt try another pass ? 

SFORZA. 

Stay ! is the count thy Master then ? 



SCENE II.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 63 

PAGE. 

Ml/ Master? 
He's an old snake ! But FU say this for him. 
Were I a royal prince — (as I may be — 
Who knows !) — Sarpellione could not treat me 
With more becoming honor. 

SFORZA, (starting up suddenly.) 

What if this 
Should be the Duke's son that he told me of? 
Come hither, sir ! What know you of your father ? 
(Aside.) ('Tis the Visconti's lip !) 

PAGE. 

I'll tell you all 
I know, my Lord. Alfonso sent me here, 
Five years ago, in quality of page. 
I was to serve my Lady and no other. 
And to be gently nurtured. The King gave me 
A smart new feather — bade me bear myself 
Like a young Prince at Milan — 

SFORZA, (starting away from him.) 

It is he!— 
Princely in spirit, and Visconti's impress 
On every feature ! He'll be Duke of Milan ! 

PAGE. 

Heard you the Duke was worse to-day, my Lord? 



64 BIANCA VISCONTI. [aCT III- 

SFORZA. 

What Duke? 

PAGE. 

Nay, sir ! you ought to know what Duke I 
I heard the Doctor say you'd wear his crown 
In three days. Never say I told you of it 1 
He whisper'd it to old SarpellionCj 
Who— 

SFORZA. 

What ? 

PAGE. 

Look'd daggers at him 1 

SFORZAj (aside.) 

(Now the devil 
Plucks at my soul indeed ! If the Duke die, 
The crown lies in the gift of my new wife, 
And I were Duke as sure as he were dead — 
But for this boy ! 

( Walks rapidly up and down.) 

Vd set my foot in Venice 
In half a year ! — Ferrara — then Bologna — 
Florence — and thence to Naples ! I'd be King 
Of Italy before their mourning's threadbare — 

But for this boy ! 

( The Page still fences with the chair.) 
I'd found a dynasty ! — 



SCENE II.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 65 

Be second of the name— but the first king — 
And there should go, e'en with the news, to France, 
A bold ambassador from one Francesco, — 
Sforza by birth and king of Italy — 

But for this hoy ! 

I would he were a man ! 

I would an army barr'd me from the crown, 
Sooner than this boy's right ! But he might die !" 
He might have run upon my sword just now ! 
'Twere natural, — and so it Avere to fall 
In playing with't, and bleed to death unheard. 
From a ripp'd vein. That would be natural ! 
He might have died in many ways, and / 
Have had no part in't. 

PAGE. 

Will you fence, my Lord ? 

SFORZA, (clutches his sword, and suddenly sheaths it, 

and walks from him. Aside.) 

(Get thee gone, devil! After all his glory 

Shall Sforza be the murderer of a child !) 

No — No ! I'll not fence with thee ! Go and play ! 

I — I — I — (turns from him.) 

Stay ! shall such a grain of sand 

As a boy's life, check Sforza's bold ambition 1 

I, who have hewn down thousands in a day 

For but the play on't — I, upon whose hand 

Sat slaughter, like a falcon, to let loose 

6* 



66 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT III, 

At all that flew above me ! I — whose conscience 

Carries the reckoning of unnumber'd souls 

Sped unto Hell or Heaven, for this ambition ! — 

Shall I mar all now with a woman's pity 

For a fair stripling 1 

{Draws Ms sword, and the Page, who has been re- 
garding him attentively, comes up, and pulls him hf 
the sleeve.) 

PAGE. 

<» 

Look you here, my Lord ! 
If I have harm'd you — for you seem so angry 
I think I have — ^more than I meant to do — 
Take my own sword, and wound me back again I 
I'll not cry out — and when you see me bleed, 
You'll pardon me that I was so unhappy 
As to have chanc'd to wound you! 
{Kneels, opens his bosom, and offers his sword-hilt to 
Sforza.) 

SFORZA. 

Angels keep me ! 
Give me thy hand, boy ! 

{Looks at him a moment, and passes his hand across 
his eyes.) 

PAGE. 

You'll forgive me, sir ? 
Letting of blood — tohe7i done in fair play, mind you ! 
Has no offence in't. 



SCENE III.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 67 

SFORZA. 

Leave me now, sweet boy ! 
I'll see thee at the feast to-night ! Farewell ! 
{Page kisses his hand, and exit.) 
Shade of my father ! If from Heaven thou look'st 
Upon the bright inheritance of glory 
I took from thee — pluck from my tortur'd soul 
These thoughts of Hell — and keep me worthy of thee ! 
( Walks up and doiun thoughtfidly, and then presses 

the crucifix to his lips.) 
As I am true to honor and that child. 
Help me, just Heaven ! [Exit, 



SCENE III. 

[A bridal feast seen through a glass door in the rear 
of the stage. Enter from the hanquetting room^ 
Bianca, drest with great magnificence, followed by 
Sforza, Rossano, Brunorio, and Sarpellione. A 
raised throne at the side. Music heard till the door 
is closed.] 

BIANCA. 

They who love stillness follow us 1 The brain 
Grows giddy with the never-wearying dance. 



68 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT IIIv 

And music's pause is sweet as its beginning. 
Shut the doorsj Giulio ! Sarpellione ! enter ! 
You're welcome to Trophonius' cave I We'll hold 
The Court of Silence, and I'll play the Q,ueen. 
My brave lord^ you shall doff that serious air. 
And be court favorite — sit you at our feet ! 

SFORZA. 

Too envious a place and office both ! 
I'll sit here with Rossano. Honor's flower — 
That lifts a bold head in the world — at court, 
Looks for the lily's hiding-place. 

SARPELLIONE, (aSlde.) 

(What trick 
Lies in this new humility.) The lily 
Is lowly born, and knows its place, my Lord ! 

BIANCA. 

Yet is it sought with pains while the rose withers I 

SARPELLIONE. 

The rose lifts to the sun its flowering tree, 
And all its parts are honor'd — while the lily 
Upon one fragile stem rears all its beauty — 
And its coarse family of leaves are left 
To lie on th' earth they cling to. 

SFORZA, (to Rossano^ with whom he has been conversing 
apart.) 

(I've sure news 
He was worse yesterday !) 



SCENE III.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 69 

(Bianca rising with dignity ^ and descending from the 
ducal chair,) 

BIANCA. 

Now, since the serpent 
Misled our mother, never was fair truth 
So subtly turned to error. If the rose 
Were born a lily, and, by force of heart 
And eagerness for light, grew tall and fair^ 
'Twere a true type of the first fiery soul 
That makes a low name honorable. They 
Who take it by inheritance alone — 
Adding no brightness to it — are like stars 
Seen in the ocean, that were never there 
But for the bright originals m Heaven ! 

SARPELLioNE, (sueeringly.) 
Rest to the gallant soul of the Jirst Sforza ! 

j,% BIANCA. 

Amen ! but triple glory to the second ! 

I have a brief tale for thine ear. Ambassador I 

SARPELLIONE. 

I hsten. Lady ! 

BIANCA. 

Mark the moral, sir ! 
An eagle once from the Euganean hills 
Soared bravely to the sky. ( To Sf.) (Wilt please my Lord 



70 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT III. 

List to my story ?) In his giddy track 

Scarce mark'd by them who gazed upon the first, 

Follow'd a new-fledged eaglet, fast and well.' 

Upward they sped, and all eyes on their flight 

Gazed with admiring awe, when, suddenly, 

The parent bird, struck by a thunderbolt, 

Dropp'd lifeless thro' the air. The eaglet paused, 

And hung upon his wings ; and as his sire 

Plashed in the far-down wave, men look'd to see him 

Flee to his nest affrighted ! 

SFORZA, (with great interest,) 
Did he so? 

BIANCA. 

My noble lord— he had a monarch's heart ! 
He wheePd a moment in mid air, and shook 
Proudly his royal wings, and then right on. 
With crest uplifted and unwavering flight, 
Sped to the sun's eye, straight and gloriously. 

PAGE. 

Lady — is that true ? 

BIANCA. 

Ay — men call those eagles 
Sforza the First and Second ! 

( The bell tolls^ and enter a messenger.) 

MESSENGER. 

Pardon, Madam ! 



SCENE III.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 71 

For my sad news ! your royal Father's dead ! 
BiANCAj (aside, with great energy.) 
(Sforza'UbeDuke!) 

( Turning to the messenger.) 

Died he in much pain, know you ? 

MESSENGER. 

Madam — 

BIANCA, (aside.) 
(The crown is mine ! He will remember 
The crown was mine.) 

( Turns to the messenger.) 
Sent he for any one 
In his extremity ? 

MESSENGER. 

Most honor'd Madam — 
BIANCA, (aside.) 
(Ingratitude is not the lion's fault — 
He cannot hate me when I make him royal ! 
It would be monstrous if he did not love me !) 

(To the messenger.) 
Said you my father sent for me ? 

MESSENGER. 

No ! Madam; 
He died as he had lived, unseen of any 
Save his physician ! 



72 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT III. , 

J 

BiANCA, (aside.) \ 

(Sfbrza must be crowned \ 

And then our mourning will shut out the world ! \ 

He'll be alone with me and his new glory — ' 

All royal, and all mine /) ( To Sf.) Please you, my Lord, , 
Dismiss the revellers ! My father's dead ! | 

(Aside,) (There are no more Viscontis — Sforza's children I 
Shall now be Duke of Milan ! Think on that ! ; 

HeHl think on't, and his heart will come down to ine, \ 

Or there's no truth in nature I) (To Sf.) My brave Lord ! , 

Shall we go in ? 

i 

SFORZA. i 

Go you in first ! (hands her in) Rossano ; 
Will forth with me, to see the funeral 

Fitly arrang'd. ,» 

j 

BIANCA. 

You'll come back soon, my Lord ! 

SFORZA. 

Ay—presently ! lEj^it Bianca. \ 

ROSSANO. 

With what a majesty 
She walks ! 

SFORZA. • 

She knows not that she has a brother, 
And in her port already mocks the duchess. 



SCENE III.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 73 

ROSSANO. 

She would have made a glorious queen, my Lord ! 

SFORZA. 

She should have made one — but I cannot talk on't 1 

Let's forth upon our errand, and forget 

There was a crown in Milan. {^Exeunt. 



END OF THE THIRD ACTo 



ACT IV. i 

SCENE I. ' 

\^PasquaWs chamber. Fiametta sitting with his cap ' 

in her hand.'] ; 

FIAMETTA. I 

What wilt thou do for a black feather, Pasquali? j 

PASaUALI. 1 

Hast thou no money ? 

FIAMETTA. 

No — save my dowry of six pieces. ] 

PASaUALI. ; 

i 

Give the pieces to me, and thy dowry will be ten times ; 

greater. l 

FIAMETTA. j 

An it be not six times less, I will never trust counting \ 

upon fingers. |j 

PASaUALI. »^ 

Hast thou no dread of dying uncelebrated ? | 



SCENE l.J BIANCAVISCONTI. 75 

FIAMETTA. 

If it be sin, I have a dread of it by baptism. 

PASaUALI. 

Is it a sin to neglect thy immortality ? 

FIAMETTA. 

Ay— it is. 

PASaUALI. 

Then take heed how thou failest into sin — for to be 
the friend of a poet is to be immortal, and thou art no 
friend of mine if I have not thy six pieces. 

FIAMETTA. 

But how shall I have six times more, master Pasquali? 

PASaUALI. 

In reputation ! Wouldst thou marry a fool ? 

FIAMETTA. 

No, truly. 

PASQUALI. 

Then if thy husband be wise, he will be more proud 
that thou art famous, than covetous of thy six pieces. 

FIAMETTA. 

And shall I be famous ? ( Gives him the money.) 

PASQUALI. 

Thou wilt live when Sforza is dead ! 



76 BIANCA VISCONTI. [aCT IV» 

FIAMETTA. 

Is not Sforza famous, then ? 

PASQUALI. 

He hath fame while he lives, and so had king Priam of 
Troy. But if Homer had not written, Priam would 
have been forgot and Troy too ; and if Sforza live not 
in poetry, he is as dead in a century — as thou and Laura 
were, but for thy favors to Petrarch and Pasquali. 

FIAMETTA. 

Why does not Sforza give thee six pieces and be im- 
mortal ? 

PASaUALl. 

Truly — he pays more for a less matter ! It is the blind- 
ness of great men that they slight the poets. Look here 
now — hath not Sforza shed blood, and wasted treasure, 
and taken a thousand murders on his soul, to leave a name 
after him? 

FIAMETTA. 

I misdoubt he hath. 

PASQUALI. 

Now will I, whom he thinks less worthy than a trum- 
peter, sit down, and with a scrape of my pen, make a 
dog's name more known to posterity. 

FIAMETTA. 

When thou speakest of a dog, I think of my Lady's 



SCENE I.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 77 

page. Canst thou tell me why she should love him so 
out of reason ? 

PASaUALI. 

Canst thou tell me why the moon riseth not every 
night, as the sun every day ? 

FIAMETTA. 

No— truly. 

PASaUALI. 

Neither can I give thee reason for a woman's fancy — 
which is as unaccountable in its caprice as the moon in 
its changes. Hence the sun is called "Tie," the moon 

FIAMETTA. 

Holy Virgin — what it is to be learned ! 

PASaUALI. 

Come, Fiametta! spend thy dowry while thy mind is 
enlightened ! 

FIAMETTA. 

If I should repent now ! 

PASaUALI. 

Think not of it. If thou should'st repent to-morrow, 
I shall still go beseemingly to the funeral, and thou wilt 
be famous past praying for. Come away ! 



7¥f 



BIANCA VISCONTI. [aCT IV- 



SCENE II. 

[ The garden of the ^palace of Milan. Enter Bianca. 
in mourning, folloxced by Sarpellione.'] 

BIANCA. 

Liar — 'tis not true ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

WiPt please you read this letter from the King, 
Writ when he sent him to you — 

BiANCAj (plucks it from him, and tears it to pieces.^ 

'Tis a lie 
Writ by thyself— 

sARPELLioNEj (taking up the pieces,) 
The King has written here 
The story of his birth, and that he is 
Your brother, pledges his most royal honor — 

BIAN'CA. 

Lie upon lie — 

SARPELLIONE. 

And wiU maintain the same 
With sword and battle 1 

BIANCA. 

Let him ! There's a Sforza 



SCENE n.] BIANCA VISCONri. 7t 

Will whip him back to Naples ! Tell him so I 

There'll be a Duke upon the throne of Milan 

In three days more, whose children will be kings 1 

SARPELLIONE. 

Your brother. Madam ! 

BIANCA. 

Liar, no ! my husband L 
The crown is mine, and /will give it him ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Pardon me, Lady, 'tis not yours to give ! 
While a Visconti lives — and one does live — 
Princely, and like his father — 'tis not yours — 
And Sforza dare not take it. 

BIANCA. 

He has taken it, 
In taking me^ Sforza is Duke, I say 1 

SARPELLIONE. 

Am I dismissed to Naples with this news ? 

BIANCA. 

Ay — on the instant ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Will you give me leave 
To bid the Prince make ready for his journey % 

BIANCA. 

What Prince? 



80 BIANCAVISCONTI. [ ACT IV. 

SARPELLIONE. 

Your brother, Madam, who'll come back 
With the whole league of armed Italy 
To take the crown he's born to. 

BIANCA. 

I've a page 
I love, called Giulio ! If you mean to ask me 
If he goes with you — lying traitor ! no ! 
I love him, and will keep him ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Ay—till Milan 
Knows him for Prince, and then farewell to Sforza ! 
He's flown too near the sun ! 

BIANCA. 

Foul raven, silence I 
What dost thou know of eagles who wert born 
To mumble over carrion ! Hast thou look'd 
On the high front of Sforza ! Hast thou heard . 
The thunder of his voice ? Has met his eye ? 
'Tis writ upon his forehead : " horn a king T"^ 
Read it, blind liar ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Upon your brother's, Lady, 
The world shall read it. 

BIANCA. 

Wilt thou drive me mad ? 



SCENE II.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 81 

They say all breathing nature has an instinct 
Of that which would destroy it. I of thee 
Feel that abhorrence ! If a glistering serpent 
Hiss'd in my path, I could not shudder more. 
Nor would I kill it sooner — so begone ! 
I'll strike thee dead else ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Madam ! 
{Exit Sarpellione.) 

BIANCA. 

'Tis my brother ! 
At the first word with which he broke it to me 
My heart gave nature's echo ! 'Tis my brother ! 
I would that he were dead — and yet I love him— 
Love him so well, that I could die for him— 
Yet hate him that he bars the crown from Sforza. 
He's betwixt me and Heaven ! were he but dead ! 
Sforza and I would, like the sun and moon, 
Have all the light the world has ! He must die 1 
Milan will rise for him — his boyish spirit 
Is known and loved in every quarter of it. 
Naples is powerful, and Venice holds 
Direct succession holy, and the lords 
Of all the Marches will cry " down usurper !" 
For Sforza's glory has o'ershadowed their's. 
Both cannot live, or I must live unloved — 
And that were hell— or die, and Heaven without him 



82 BIANCA VISCONTI. [aCT IV. 

Were but a hell — for I've no soul to go there ! 
Nothing but love ! no memory but that ! 
No hope ! no sense ! — Heaven were a madhouse to me I 
Hark 1 v^ho comes here ? 

(Enter Sarpellione and Brunorio. Bianca conceals 
herself,) 

SARPELLIONE. 

Strike but this blow, Brunorio— 
And thou'rt a made man ! 

BRUNORIO. 

Sforza sleeps not well. 

SARPELLIONE. 

Art thou less strong of arm than he who called thee 
A brainless ass ! 

BRUNORIO. 

'S death, he did call me so ! 

SARPELLIONE, 

And more I never told thee. Pay him for it— 
And thou wilt save a Prince who'll cherish thee. 
And Sforza's soul a murder — for he'll kill him 
Ere one might ride to Naples. 

BRUNORIO. 

Think'st thou so ? 

SARPELLIONE. 

Is it not certain ? If this boy were dead 



SCENE II.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 83 

Sforza were Duke. With Milan at his back 
He were the devil. Rather than see this, 
Alfonso would share half his kingdom with thee. 

BRUNORIO. 

I'll do it! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Thou wilt save a Prince's life 
Whom he would murder. Now collect thy senses. 
And look around thee ! On that rustic bank. 
Close by the fountain, with his armor off. 
He sleeps away the noon. 

BRUNORIO. 

With face uncovered ? 

SARPELLIONE. 

Sometimes— but oftener with his mantle drawn 
Q^uite over him ! But thou must strike- so well. 
That, should he see thee, he will never tell on't. 

BRUNORIO. 

I'd rather he were covered. 

SARPELLIONE. 

'Tis most likely— 
But mark the ground well. By this alley here, 
You'll creep on unperceived. If he's awake — 
You're his Lieutenant, and may have good reason 

I To seek him any hour ! Are you resolved ? 



84 BIANCA VISCONTI. [aCT IV. 

BRUNORIO. 

I am! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Once more look round you ! 

BRUNORIO. 

If he sleep 
To-morroWj he'll ne'er wake ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Why, that's well said — 
Come now and try the horse I've chosen for you. 
We'll fly like birds with welcome news to Naples ! 

{Exeunt Sarpellione and Brunorio.) 

BIANCA. 

Thank God that I was here ! Can there be souls 
So black as these — to plot so foul a murder ! 
Oh unretributive and silent Heavens ! 
Heard you these men ? Thank God that I can save him ! 
The sun shone on them — on these murderers — 
As it shines now on me ! — Would it were Giulio 
They thought to murder ! — Ha ! what ready fiend 
Whisper'd me that? Giulio instead of Sforza! 
Why that were murder — too ! — Brunorio's murder ! — 
Not mine ! — my hands would show no blood for it ! 
If Giulio were asleep beneath the mantle 
To-morrow noon, and Sforza in his chamber — 



SCENE II.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 85 

What murder lies upon my soul for that ? 

I'll come again to-night, and see the place, 
And think on't in the dark ! 

lEa^it Bianca. 



END OF THE FOURTH ACT. 



ACT V. 

SCENE I. 
ISame scerie in the gai^den. Enter BiancaJ] 

BIANCA. 

No ! no ! come hate — come worse indifference ! 
Come any thing — I will not ! He is gone 
To bring me flowers now, for he sees I'm sad ; 
Yet, with his delicate thought, asks not the reason, 
But tries to steal it from me ! — could I kill him ! 
His eyes grew moist this morn, for I was pale — 
With thinking of his murder I could I kill him ! 
Oh Sforza ! I could walk on burning ploughshares, 
But not kill pitying Giulio ! I could starve — 
Or freeze with wintry cold — or swallow fire — 
Or die a death for every drop of blood 
Kneeling at my sad heart, but not kill Giulio ! 
No — no — no ! no ! 

{Sforza comes in dejectedly.) 
My Lord ! My noble Lord ! 

SFORZA. 

Give you good day, Bianca ! 



SCENE I.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 87 

BIANCA. 

Are you^illj 
That you should drop your words so sorrowfully? 

SFORZA. 

I am not ill, nor well ! 

BIANCA. 

Not well? 

SFORZA. 

The pulse 
Beats on sometimes, when the heart quite runs down. 
I'm very well ! 

BIANCA. 

My Lord, you married me — 
The priest said so — to share both joy and sorrow. 
For the last privilege I've shed sweet tears ! — 
If I'm not worthy — 

SFORZA. 

Nay — you are ! — I thank you 
For many proofs of gentle disposition, 
Which, to. say truth, I scarcely look'd for in you — 
Knowing that policy, and not your choice. 
United us ! 

BIANCA. 

My Lord ! 



88 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT V. 

SFORZA. 

I say you're worthy, 
For thisj to see my heart — if you could do so, 
But there's a grief in't now which brings you joy, 
And so you'll pardon me ! 

(Giulio comes in with a heap of flowers ^ which he 
throws down and listens.) 

BIANCA. 

That cannot be l 

SFORZA. 

Listen to this. I had a falcon lately, 
That I had train'd, till, in the sky above him. 
He was the monarch of all birds that flew. 
I loved him next my heart, and had no joy, 
But to unloose his feet, and see the eagle 
Quail at his fiery swoop ! I brought him here I 
Sitting one day upon my wrist, he heard 
The nightingale you love, sing in the tree, 
While I applauded him. With jealous heart 
My falcon sprang to kill him ; and with fear 
For your sweet bird, I struck him to my feet; 
And since that hour, he droops. His heart is broke. 
And he'll ne'er soar again 1 

PAGE. 

Why, one such bird 
Were worth a thousand nightingales. 



SCENE I.J BIANCAVISCONTI. ^ 

BiANCA, (aside.) 

(Poor boy 1 
He utters his own doom !) (To Sf.) My Lord, I have 
A slight request, which you will not refuse me. 
Please you, to-day sleep in your chamber. I 
Will give you reason for't. 

SFORZA. 

Be't as you will I 
The noon creeps on apace, and in my dreams 
I may forget this heaviness. (Goes in,) 

BIANCA. 

Be stern, 
Strong heart ! • and think on Sforza ! Giulio I 



PAGE. 



Madam t 



BIANCA, (aside.) 
(He's hot and weary now, and will drink freely 
This opiate in his cup, and from his sound 
And sudden sleep he'll wake in Paradise.) 
Giulio, I say ! (She mixes an opiate.) 

PAGE. 

Sweet Lady, pardon me ! 

I dream'd I was in Heaven, and fear'd to stir 

Lest I should jar some music. Was't your voice 

I heard sing, ^ GiuHo V 

8* 



90 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT T. 

BiANCA, (aside.) 

(Oh, ye pitying angels. 
Let him not love me most, when I would kill him.) 
Drink I Giulio ! 

PAGE. 

Is it sweet? 

BIANCA. 

The sweetest cup 
You'll drink in this world ! 

PAGE. 

I can make it sweeter— 

BIANCA. 

And how? 

PAGE. 

With your health in it ! 

BIANCA. 

Drink it not ! 
Not my health ! Drink what other health thou wilt ! 
Not mine — not mine ! 

PAGE. 

Then here's the noble falcon 
That Sforza told us of ! Would you not kill ' 
The nightingale that broke his spirit, Madam ? 

BIANCA. 

Oh Giulio ! Giulio ! ( Weeps.) 



SCENE I.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 91 

PAGE. 

Nay — I did not think 
You loved your singing bird so well, dear lady I 

BIANCA. 

(He'U break my heart !) 

PAGE. 

Say truly ! if the falcon 
Must pine unless the nightingale were dead, 
Would you not kill it ? 

BIANCA. 

Tho' my life went with it— 
I must do so! 

PAGE. 

Why — so I think ! And yet 
If I had fed the nightingale, and lov'd him ; 
And he were innocent, as, after all. 
He is, you know — I should not like to kill him— 
Not with my own hands ! 

BIANCA. 

Now, relentless Heavens^ 
Must I be struck with daggers thro' and through I 
Speaks not a mocking demon with his lips ? 
I will not kill him ! 

PAGE. 

Sforza has gone in — 



# 



92 BIANCA VISCONTI. [aCT V. 

May I sleep there, sweet lady, in his place ? 

BIANCA. 

No — boy ! thou shalt not ! 

PAGE. 

Then wiU you ? 

BIANCA. 

Oh God ! 
I would I could ! and have no waking after ! 
Come hither, Giulio ! nay — nay — stop not there I 
Come on a little, and I'll make thy pillow 
Softer than ever mine will be again ! 
Tell me you love me ere you go to sleep ! 

PAGE. 

With all my soul, dear Mistress ! (Drops asleep.y 

BIANCA. 

Now he sleeps ! 
This mantle for his pall — but stay — his shape 
Looks not like Sforza under it. Fair flowers 
{Heaps them at hisfeet^ and spreads the mantle over. 

all.) 
Your innocence to his ! Exhale together, 
Pure spirit and sweet fragrance ! So — one kiss ! 
Giulio ! my brother ! Who comes there ? Wake, Giulio ! 
Or thou'lt be murdered ! Nay — 'twas but the wind ! 
( Withdraws on tiptoe, and crouches behind a tree.) 



SCENE II.] BIANCA VIS CON TI. 93 

I will kneel here and pray ! 

(Brunorio creeps in^ followed by Sarpellione at a dis- 
tance.) 
Hark! 

SARPELLIONE. 

See — he sleeps. 
Strike well, and fear not ! 

BIANCA, (springing for ID ard as he strikes.) 
Giulio ! Giulio ! wake ! 
Ah God! 

(She drops on the body, the murderer escapes and 
Sforza rushes in. As he bends over her the scene 
closes,) 



SCENE 11. 

\A road outside the walls of Milan. Enter SarpeUi- 
one and Brunorio^ flyi'^S from the city, and met by 
Pasquali.'] 

PASaUAU. 

What news, sirs ? 

(As they attempt to pass him without answer, he steps 
before Sarpellione.) 
Stay, Count, I've a word with you ! 



94 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT V. 

SARPELLIONE. ; 

Stand off, and let me pass ! 

PASaUALI. ] 

Nay, with your leave, 

One single word ! ' 

SARPELLIONE. j 

Brunorio ! hasten forward, ; 
And loose my bridle ! I'll be there o' th' instant 1 

(Brunorio hastens on.) \ 

What would you say ? ' 

PASaUALI. 

My Lord ! I hear the bell I 

Tolling in Milan, that is never heard i 

But at some dread alarm. i 

SARPELLIONE, (pressing to go on.) \ 

Is that all ? 

I 

i 

PASQUALl. , I 

Stay ! I 

I met a flying peasant here just now, J 

Who mutter'd of some murder, and flew on ! W 

SARPELLIONE. j 

Slave ! let me pass ! 

(Draws J and Pasquali confronts Mm with his sword.) j 



SCENE II.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 95 

PASaUALI. 

My Lord ! you once essayed 
To tempt me to a murder. Something tells me 
That this hot haste has guilt upon its heels. 
And you shall stay till I know more of it. 
Down with your point ! 

SARPELLIONE. 

Villain ! respect my office I 

PASaUALI. 

No " villain," and no murderer I In Milan 
They've soldiers' law, and if your skirts are bloody, 
You'll get small honor for your coat. Ambassador ! 
Bear back, I say ! 

( They Jight^ and Sarpellione fallsj disarmed^ on his 
knee,) 

SARPELLIONE. 

In mercy, spare my life ! 

PASaUALI. 

Up, coward ! You shall go before to Milan, 
And meet the news ! If you are innocent, 
I'U ne'er believe a secret prompting more. 
If not, I've done the state a worthy service. 
On, on, I say ! 

(Drives Sarpellione out before him at the point of his 
sword.) 



96 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT V. 



SCENE III. 

[A room of state in the palace. Enter Rossano and 
a Priest."] 

ROSSANO. 

Will she not eat ? 

PRIEST. 

She hath not taken food 
Since the boy died ! 

ROSSANO. 

Nor slept? 

PRIEST. 

Nor closed an eyelid ! 

ROSSANO. 

What does she? 

PRIEST. 

Still, with breathless repetition, 
Goes thro' the Page's murder — makes his couch 
As he lay down i' the garden — heaps again 
The flowers upon him to eke out his length ; 
Then kisses him, and hides to see him kilPd ! 
'Twould break your heart to look on't. 

ROSSANO, 

Is't the law 
That she must crown him ? 



SCENE III.] BIANCAVISCONTI. 97 

PRIEST. 

If, upon the death 
Of any Duke of Milan, the succession 
Fall to a daughter, she may rule alone. 
Giving her husband neither voice nor power 
If she so please. But if she delegate 
The crown to him, or in extremity 
Impose it, it is not legitimate, 
Save he is crown'd by her own living hands 
In presence of the council. 

(Enter Sforza^ hastily^ in full armor , except the hel- 
met.) 

SFORZA. 

Ho ! Rossano ! 

ROSSANO. 

My Lord ! 

SFORZA. 

Send quick, and summon in the council 
To see the crown imposed ! Bianca dies I 
My throne hangs on your speed 1 Fly ! 
{Exit Rossano.) 

Sentry, ho ! 
Despatch a hundred of my swiftest horse 
Tow'rd Naples ! Bring me back SarpelHone ! 
Alive or dead, a thousand ducats for him ! 
auick I 

{Exit sentinel^ re-enter Rossano.) 
9 



98 BIANCAVISCONTI. [aCT V* 

ROSSANO. 

I have sped your orders ! 

{Enter a messenger.) 

Please, my Lord, 
Lady Bianca prays your presence with her ! 

SFORZA. 

Away ! I'll come 1 ( To Bossano.) Go, man the citadel 

With my choice troops ! Post them at every gate ! 

Send for the Milanese to scout or forage, 

I care not what, so they're without the wall 1 

And hark, Rossano ! if you hear a knell 

Wail out before the coronation peal, — 

Telling to Milan that Bianca's dead. 

And there's no Duke — down with the ducal banner, 

And, like an eagle, to the topmost tower 

Up with my gonfalon ! Away ! 

{Re-enter the messenger from Bianca,) 
My Lord— 

SFORZA. 

I come 1 I come ! 

PASQUALi, {without,) 
In, in ! 
{Enter Sarpellione, followed by PasqualL) 
SARPELLioNE, {aghast at the sight of Sforza.) 
Alive ! 



SCENE III.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 99 

SFORZA. 

Ha, devil! 
Have you come back to get some fresher news ? 
Alfonso'd know who's Duke ! While you are hanging", 
rU ride to Naples with the news myself! 
Ha ! ha ! my star smiles on me ! 

{Bianca rushes in, and crouches at the side ofSforza, 
as if hiding from something beyond him.) 

BIANCA. 

Hark ! I hear them ! 
Come ! come ! Brunorio ! — If you come not quick, 
My heart will break and wake him ! 

{Presses her hand painfully to her side.) 

Crack not yet ! 
Nay, think on Sforza ! Think 'tis for his love ! 
Giulio will be an angel up in Heaven, 
And Sforza will drink glory from my hand ! 
Come! come! Brunorio! (Screams piercingly.) 
Ah, who murder'd Giulio ! 
Not I!— hot I! not I! 

SFORZA, (watching her with emotion.) 
Oh God ! how dearly 
Are bought the proudest triumphs of this world ! 

BIANCA. 

Will the bell never peal ! 



100 BIANCA VISCONTI. [aCT V. 

PRiESTj (to an attendant.) 
On that string only 
Her mind plays truly now. Her life hangs on it ! 
The waiting for the bell of coronation 
Is the last hnk that holds 1 

SFORZA, (raising her.) 

My much-lov'd wife ! 

BIANCA. 

Is it thee, Sforza ? Has the bell pealed yet 1 

SFORZA. 

Think not of that, but take some drink, Bianca! 
You'll kill me this way 1 

BIANCA, (dashing down the cwp,) 

Think yon I'll drink fire 1 

SFORZA. 

Then taste of this ! (Offers her a pomegranate.} 

BIANCA, (laughing bitterly,) 
I'm not a fool ! I know 
The fruit of Hell has ashes at the core ! 
Mock me some other way 1 

SFORZA. 

My poor Bianca ! 

BIANCA. 

Ha 1 ha ! that's well done ! You've the shape of Sforza, 
And you're a devil, and can mock his voice, 



SCENE III. J BIANCA VISCONTI. 101 

But Sforza never spoke so tenderly ! 
You overdo it ! Ha ! ha 1 ha ! 

SFORZA. 

God help me, 
I would her brother had been Duke in Milan 
And I his slave — so she had liv'd and lov'd me ! 

BIANCA. 

Can you see Heaven from hence 1 I thought 'twas part 
Of a souPs agony in Hell to see 
The blest afar off? Can I not see Giulio ? 
(Struggles, as if to escape something before her eyes,) 
Sforza' s between 1 ^ 

SFORZA, 

Bianca ! sayst thou that? 
(Struggles with himself a moment,) 
Nay, then, 'tis time to say farewell Ambition ! 

( Turns to the Priest.') 
Look, father ! I'm un skill' d in holy things, 
But I have heard, the sacrifice of that 
Which the repenting soul lov'd more than Heaven, 
Will work a miracle ! 

(Takes his sword from his scabbard, and proceeds in 

a deeper voice,) 

I love my sword 

As never mother loved her rosy child ! 

My heart is in its hilt — my life, my soul, 

9* 



102 BIANCA VISCONTI. [aGT V. 

Follow it like the light ! Say thou dost think 
If I give that up for a life of peace, 
Heav'n will give back her reason — 

PRIEST, {eagerly.) 

Doubt it not ! 

SFORZA. 

Then — take it ! 

{Drops the hilt into his hand, and holds it a moment. y 

SARPELLioNE, (in a hoarse whisper.) 

Welcome news for King Alfonso ! 
SFORZA, {starting.) 
Fiend ! sayst thou so 1 Nay, then, come back my sword. 
I'll follow in its gleaming track to Naples 
If the world perish ! 

{Enter Rossano.) 
Now, what news, Rossano? 

ROSSANO. 

In answer to your wish, the noble council 

Consent to see the crown imposed in private, 

Three delegated lords will presently 

Attend you here ! 

SFORZA, {energetically.) 
Tell him who strikes the bell. 

To look forth from his tower and watch this window! 

When he shall see a handkerchief wave hence 

Let him peal out. {^Attendant goes out.) 



SCENE III.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 103 

My gonfalon shall float 
Over St. Mark's before Foscari dreams 
There's a new Duke in Milan ! Let Alfonso 
Look to the north ! . 

{Enter attendant,) 

ATTENDANT. 

My Lord ! the noble council 
Wait to come in ! 

(Sf or za waves Ms hand, and they enter.) 
1st lord. 
Health to the noble Sforza ! 

SFORZA. 

My lords, the deep calamity we suffer 
Must cut off ceremony. Milan's heiress 
Lies there before you, failing momently, 
But holds in life to give away the crown. 
If you're content to see her put it on me 
Let it be so as quickly as it may ! 
Give signal for the bell ! 

( The handkerchief is waved and the bell peals. Bi- 
anca rises to her feet.) 

BIANCA. 

It peals at last ! 
Where am I ? Bring some wine, dear Giulio ! 

{Looks round fearfully.) 



#■ 



104 BIANCA VISCONTI. [ACT V, 

Am I awake now ! I've been dreaming here 
That he was dead! Oh God ! a horrid dream ! 
Come hither, Sforza ! I have dreamt a dream, 
If I can tell it you — will make your hair 
Stand up with horror ! 

SFORZA. 

Tell it not ! 

BIANCA. 

This Giulio 
Was, in my dream, my brother ! how I knew it 
I do not now remember — but I did ! 
And lov'd him — (that you know must be a dream) 
Better than you ! 

SFORZA. 

What— better ? 

BIANCA. 

Was'tnot strange T 
Being my brother, he must have the crown ! 
Stay !^ — is my father dead— or was't i' the dream too? 

SFORZA. 

He's dead, Bianca ! 

BIANCA. 

Well ! you lov'd me not, 
And Giulio cZzcZ— and somehow you should hate me 
If he were Duke ; and so I kill'd him, loving me, 
For you that lov^d me not ! Is it not strange 



SCENE III.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 105 

That we can dream such thmgs ? The manner of it— 
To see it in a play would break your heart- 
It was so pitiless ! Look here ! this boy 
Brings me a heap of flowers ! — I'll show it you 
As it was done before me in the dream! 
Don't weep ! 'twas hut a dream — but I'll not sleep 
Again till I've seen Giulio — the blood seem'd 
So ghastly natural ! I shall see it, Sforza, 
Till I have pass'd my hand across his side I 
( Turning to the attendants.) 
Will some one call my Page ? 

SFORZA. 

My ov/n Biancaj 
Will you not drink ? 

{She drops the cup in horror.) 

BIANCA. 

Just such a cup as that 
Had liquid fire in't when the deed was done — 
A devil mock'd me with it ! 

{Another cup is brought.^ and she drinks. y 
This is wine ! 
Thank God, I wake now ! 

{She turns to an, attendant.) 

Will you see if Giulio 
Is in the garden ? 

SFORZA. 

Strike the bell once more 1 



106 BIANCA VISCONTI. 



[actv. m 



BIANCA. I 

1 

He kiss'd me ere he slept — wilt listen, Sforza 1 i 

SFORZA. 4 

Tell me no more, sweet one ! i 

BIANCA. i 

i 

And then I heap'd \ 

The very flowers he brought me, at his feet, j 

To eke his body out as long as yours — j 

Was't not a hellish dream ? ' 

[( The bell strikes again^ and she covers her ears in ) 

horror.) ■ 

That bell! Oh God, I 

'Tis no dream — now I know — yes — yes — I know ; 

These be the councillors — and you are Sforza, • 

And that's Rossano — and I kilPd my brother I 

To make you Duke ! Yes, yes ! I see it all 1 < 

Oh God ! Oh God ! \ 

(Shecoversher face, and xoeeps,) 

SFORZA. I 

My Lords ! her reason rallies. 
Little by little. With this flood of tears, 

Her brain's reliev'd, and she'll give over raving. ■ 

My wife ! Bianca ! If thou ever lovd'st me, » 

Look on my face ! < 

BIANCA, \ 

I 

Ohj Sforza, I have given I 



SCENE III.] BIANCA VISCONTI. 107 

For thy dear love, the eyes I had to see it, 
The ears to hear it. I have broke my heart 
In reaching for't. 

SFORZA. 

Ay — but 'tis thine now, sweet one ! 
The life-drops in my heart are less dear to me ! 

BIANCA. 

Too late ! you've crush'd the light out of a gem 
You did not know the price of! Had you spoken 
But one kind word upon my bridal night ! 

SFORZA. 

Forgive me, my Bianca ! 

BIANCA. 

I am parch'd 
With thirst now, and my eyes grow faint and dim* 
Are you here, Sforza ! mourn not for me long ! 
But bury me with Giulio ! (Starts from him.) 

Hark ! I hear 
His voice now! Do the walls of Paradise 
Jut over Hell ? I heard his voice, I say ! 

(Strikes off Sforza, who approaches her.) 
Unhand me, devil! You've the shape of one 
Who upon earth had no heart ! Can you take 
No shape but that? Can you not look like Giulio ? 
(Sforza falls back, struck with remorse.) 
Hark! 'tis his low, imploring voice again — 
He prays for poor Bianca ! And look, see you ! 
The portals stir ! Slow, slow — and difficult !— 



108 BIANCA VISCONTI. [aCT V. 

{Creeps forward with her eyes upward,) 
Pray on, my brother ! Pray on, Giulio ! 
I come ! (Falls on her face,) 

(Sforza drops on his knee^ pale and trembling,) 

SFORZA. 

My soul shrinks with unnatural fear ! 
What heard I then ? " Sforza, give up thy sword !" 
Was it from Heaven or Hell ! 

{Shrinks J as if from some spectre in the air,) 
I will! I will! 
{Holds out his sword as if to the monk, and Sarpelli- 
one, who has been straining forioard to watch Is- 
abella, springs suddenly to her side.) 

SARPELLIONE. 

She's dead ! Ha ! ha ! who's Duke in Milan now ? 
{Sforza rises with a bound,) 

SFORZA. 

Sforza ! 

{He flies to the window, and waves the liandkerchief. The 
hell peals out, and as he rushes to Isabella, she moves, lifts 
her head, holes wildly around^ and struggles to her feet, 
Rossano gives her the crown — she looks an instant smi- 
lingly on Sforza, and with a difficult but calm effort pla- 
ces it on his head. All drop on one knee to do allegiance, 
and as Sforza lifts himself to his loftiest height, with a 
look of triumph at Sarpellione, Bianca sinks dead at his 
feet.) [ Curtain falls. 



"WwM/ 



TORTESA THE USURER. 



TORTESA THE USURER 



A FE®y< 



/ 

BY N. P. \A/^ILLIS. 



NE\A^-YORK: 

PUBLISHED BY SAMUEL COLMAN, 

McDo § A^toir IES(Dm§(i^ 

BROADWAY, 
1839. 



r: o o A Q 
fj *y 'a u %j 



Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by 

S. COLMAN, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the 

Southern District of New-York. 



New -York: 

Printed by Scatcherd «fc Adams, 

No. 38 Gold Street. 



PRESENTATION. 



To save his country the perpetration of a wrong, 
the Author anticipates the law, by presenting this 
published Play to whomever pleases to perform it for 
his own benefit. 



%" 



> 4 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 

Duke of Florence. 
Count Falcone. 
ToRTESA — a usurer. 
Angelo — a young painter. 
ToMAso — his Servant. 

Isabella de Falcone. 

ZippA — a Glover^s daughter. 

Other characters — a Counsellor, a page, the CounVs 

Secretary, a Tradesman, a Monk, Lords, La- 

dies. Officer, Soldiers, <^c. 



TORTESA THE USURER. 



ACT I. 

^ SCENE I. 

[.4 drawing-room in Tortesa^s house. Servant dis- 
covered reading the bill of a tradesman, who is in 
attendance,'] 

SERVANT, {reading,) 

" Silk hose, doublet of white satin, twelve shirts of 
lawn." He'll not pay it to-day, good mercer ! 

TRADESMAN. 

How, master Gaspar ? When I was assured of the 
gold on delivery? If it be a credit account, look you, 
there must be a new bill. The charge is for ready money. 

,^ SERVANT. 

Tut — tut — man, you know not whom you serve. My 
master is as likely to overpay you if you are civil, as to 
keep you a year out of your money if you push him 
when he is cross'd. 



10 TOETESA [act I. 

TRADESMAN. lH 

Why, this is the humor of a spendthrift, not the care- 
ful way of a usurer. 

SERVANT. 

Usurer ! humph. Well, it may be he is — to the rich ! 
But the heart of the Signor Tortesa, let me tell you, is 
like the bird's wing — the dark side is turned upwards. 
To those who look up to him he shows neither spot nor 
stain ! Hark ! I hear his wheels in the court. Step 
to the ante-room — for he has that on his hands to-day 
which may make him impatient. Quick ! Give way ! 
I'll bring you to him if I can find a time. 

TORTESA, (speaking without.') 
What ho ! Gaspar 1 

SERVANT. 

Signor ! 

TORTESA. 

My keys ! Bring me my keys ! 

{^Enter Tortesa^ followed by Count Falcone.'] 
Come in. Count. 

FALCONE. 

You're well lodged. 

TORTESA. 

The Duke waits for you 
To get to horse. So, briefly, there's the deed ! 
You have your lands back, and your daughter's mine — 
So ran the bargain ! 



SCENEI.] THE USUEEE. 11 

FALCONE, (coldly,) 

She's betrothed, Sir, to you ! 

TORTESA. 

Not a half hour since, and you hold the parchment ! 
A free transaction, see you ! — for you're paid^ 
And I'm but promised / 

FALCONE, (aside.) 

(What a slave is this^ 
To give my daughter to ! My daughter? Psha! 
I'll think but of my lands, my precious lands !) 
Sir, the Duke sets forth — 

TORTESA. 

Use no ceremony ! 
Yet stay ! A word ! Our nuptials follow quick 
On your return? 

FALCONE. 

That hour, if it so please you! 

TORTESA. 

And what's the bargain if her humor change ? 

FALCONE. 

The lands are your's again— 'tis understood so. 

TORTESA. 

Yet, still a word 1 You leave her with her maids. 
I have a right in her by this betrothal. 
Seal your door up till you come back again ! 
I'd have no foplings tampering with my wife ! 



12 TORTESA [act I. 

None of your painted jackdaws from the court, 
Sneering and pitying her ! My lord Falcone ! 
Shall she be private ? 

FALCONE, {aside.) 

(Patience ! for my lands !) 
You shall control my door, sir, and my daughter! 
Farewell now ! \_Exit Falcone. 

TORTESA. 

Oh, omnipotence of money! 
Ha ! ha ! Why, there's the haughtiest nobleman 
That walks in Florence. He I — whom I have bearded — 
Checked — made conditions to — shut up his daughter — 
And all with money ! They should pull down churches 
And worship it ! Had I been foor^ that man 
Would see me rot ere gi^e his hand to me. 
I — as I stand here — dress'd thus — looking thus — 
The same in all — save money in my purse — 
He would have scorn'd to let me come so near 
That I could breathe on him ! Yet, that were little — 
For pride sometimes outdoes humility, 
And your great man will please to be famihar, 
To show how he can stoop. But halt you there ! 
He has a jewel that you may not name! 
His wife's above you ! You're no company 
For his most noble daughter ! You are brave — 
'Tis nothing! comely — nothing! honorable — 
You are a phcenix of all human virtues — 
But, while your blood's mean, there's a frozen bar 



SCENE I.] THE TJSTTEER. 13 

Betwixt you and a lady^ that will melt — 
Not with religion — scarcely with the grave — 
But like a mist, with money ! 

[Enter a Servant.'] 

SERVANT. 

Please you, sir 1 
A tradesman waits to see you ! 

TORTESA. 

f:. Let him in ! {^Exit Servant 

What need have I of forty generations 
To build my name up ? I have bought with money 
The fairest daughter of their haughtiest line ! 
Bought her ! Falcone's daughter for so much I 
No wooing in't ! Ha ! ha ! I harp'd on that 
Till my lord winced! "My bargain!" still "my 6a?'- 

gain /" 
Nought of my bride ! Ha ! ha ! 'Twas excellent ! 

[^Enter Tradesman.'] 
What's thy demand ? 

TRADESMAN. 

Ten ducatSj please your lordship ! 

TORTESA. 

Out on "your lordship !" There are twelve for ten ! 
Does a lord pay like that ? Learn some name sweeter 
To my ears than " Your lordship !" I'm no lord ! 
Give me thy quittance ! Now, begone ! Who waits ? 

2 



14 TORTESA [act I. 

SERVANT. 

The Glover's daughter, please you, sir ! 
\^Enter Zippa,'] 

TORTESA. 

Come in, 
My pretty neighbor ! What ! my bridal gloves ! 
Are they brought home ? 

ZIPPA. 

y^s^. The signor pays so well, 

He's well served. 

TORTESA. 

Um ! why, pertinently answered ! 
And yet, my pretty one, the words were sweeter 
In any mouth than yours ! 

ZIPPA. 

That's easy true ! 

TORTESA. 

I would 'twere liking that had spurr'd your service — 
Not money J Zippa, sweet ! (She presents her parcel to 
him, with a meaning air,) 

ZIPPA. 

Your bridal gloves, sir ! 
TORTESA, (aside.) 
(What a fair shrew it is !) My gloves are paid for ! 
And will be thrown aside when worn a little. 



SCENE I.] THE USURER. 15 



ZIPPA. 



What then, sir! 



TORTESA. 

Why, the bride is paid for, too 1 

And may be thrown aside, when worn a little ! 

ZIPPA. 

You mock me now ! 

TORTESA, 

You know Falcone's palace, 
And lands, here, by Fiesole ? I bought them 
For so much money of his creditors. 
And gave them to him, in a plain, round bargain, 
For his proud daughter ! What think you of that ? 

ZIPPA. 

What else but that you loved her ! 

TORTESA. 

As I love 
The thing I give my money for — no more ! 

ZIPPA. 

You mean to love her 1 

TORTESA. 

'Twas not in the bargain ! 

ZIPPA. 

Why, what a monster do yourmake yourself! 
Have you no heart 1 



16 TORTESA [act I. 

TORTESA. 

A loving one, for you I 
Nay, never frown ! I marry this lord's daughter 
To please a devil that inhabits me ! 
But there's an angel in me — not so strong — 
And this last loves you ! 

ZIPPA. 

Thanks for your weak angel I 
I'd sooner 'twere the devil I 

TORTESA. 

Both were yours I 
But for the burning fever that I have 
To pluck at their proud blood. 

ZIPPA. 

Why, this poor lady 
Cannot have harm'd you I 

TORTESA. 

Forty thousand times ! 
She's noble-born — there's one wrong in her cradle ! 
She's proud — why, that makes every pulse an insult — 
Sixty a minute ! She's profuse in smiles 
On those who are, to me, as stars to glow-worms — 
So I'm disparaged ! I have pass'd her by, 
Summer and winter, and she ne'er looked on me ! 
Her youth has been one tissue of contempt ! 
Her lovers, and her tutors, and her heart. 
Taught her to scorn the low-born — that am I! 
Would you have more ? 



SCENE I.] THE USURER. 17 

ZIPPA. 

Why, this is moon-struck madness. 

TORTESA. 

I'd have her mine, for all this — ^jewelPd, perfumed — 
Just as they've worshipped her at court — my slave ! 
They've mewed her breath up in their silken beds — 
Blanch'd her with baths — fed her on delicate food — 
Guarded the unsunn'd dew upon her skin — 
For some lord^s pleasure ! If I could not get her, 
There's a contempt in that, would make my forehead 
Hot in my grave ! 

zippAj (aside.) 
(Now Heaven forbid my fingers 
Should make your bridal gloves !) Forgive me, Signor ! 
I'll take these back, so please you ! (Takes up thepar-^ 
eel again.) 

TORTESA, (not listening to her.) 

But for this— 
This devil at my heart, thou should'st have wedded ^ 
The richest commoner in Florence, Zippa ! 
Tell me thou wouldst ! 

ZIPPA, (aside.) 

(Stay! stay! A thought! If I 
Could feign to love him, and so work on him 
To put this match off, and at last to break it — 
'Tis possible — and so befriend this lady. 
Whom, from my soul, I pity ! Nay, I will !) 
Signor Tortesa ! 

2* 



18 TORTESA [act I. 

TORTESA. 

You've been dreaming now, 
How you would brave it in your lady -gear ; 
Was't not so ? 

ZIPPA. 

No! 

TORTESA. 

What then ? 

ZlPPA. 

I had a thought, 
If I dare speak it. 

TORTESA. 

Nay, nay, speak it out I 

ZIPPA. 

I had forgot your riches, and I thought 
How lost you were ! 

TORTESA. 

How lost 7 

ZIPPA. 

Your qualities, 
Which far outweigh your treasure, thrown away 
On one who does not love you 1 

TORTESA. 

Throv/n away? 

ZIPPA. ^ 

Is it not so to have a gallant shape, 



SCENE I.] THE USURER. 19 

And no eye to be proud on't — to be full 

Of all that makes men dangerous to women. 

And marry where you're scorn'd? 

TORTESA. 

There's reason there ! 

ZIPPA. 

You're wise in meaner riches ! You have gold, 
'Tis out at interest ! — lands, palaces, 
They bring in rent. The gifts of nature only, 
Worth to you, Signor, more than all your gold, 
Lie profitless and idle. Your fine stature — 

TORTESA. 

Why — so, so 1 

ZIPPA. 

Speaking eyes— 

TORTESA. 



Ay — passable ! 



ZIPPA. 

Your voice, uncommon musical — 



^^ 



TORTESA. 

Nay, there, 
I think you may be honest ! 

ZIPPA. 

And your look. 
In all points lofty, like a gentleman ! 
(Aside.) (That last must choke him !) 



20 TORTESA [act I. 

TORTESA. 

You've a judgment, Zippa, 
That makes me wonder at you ! We are both 
Above our breeding — I have often thought so — 
And lov'd you — but to-day so more than ever, 
That my revenge must have drunk up my life. 
To still sweep over it. But when I think 
Upon that proud lord and his scornful daughter — 
I say not you're forgot — myself am lost — 
And love and memory with me ! I must go 
And visit her ! I'll see you to the door — 
Come, Zippa, come ! 

ZIPPA, {aside,) 
(I, too, will visit her ! 

You're a brave Signor, but against two women 
You'll find your wits all wanted !) 

TORTESA. 

Come away ! 
I must look on my bargain ! my good bargain ! 
Ha ! ha ! my bargain ! [^Exeunt, 



SCENE II.] THE USURER. 21 



SCENE II. 

[ The Painter^s Studio, Angelo painting, Toma- 
so in the fore-ground^ arranging a meagre repast.'] 

TOMASO. 

A thrice-picl<'d bone, a stale crust, and — excellent wa- 
ter ! Will you to breakfast, Master Angelo? 

ANGELO. 

Look on this touch, good Tomaso, if it be not life itself 
— (Draws him before his easel.) Now, what think'st 
thou? 

TOMASO. 

Um-— fair ! fair enough ! 

ANGELO. 

No more ? 

TOMASO. 

Till it mend my breakfast, I will never praise it ! Fill 
me up that outline^ Master Angelo ! ( Takes up the naked 
bone.) Color me that water ! To what end dost thou 
dabble there ? 



I am weary of telling thee to what end. Have pa- 
tience, Tomaso! 



22 " TORTES A [act I. 



TOMAso, (coaxingly.) 
Would'st thou but paint the goldsmith a sign, now, in 
good fair letters ! 

ANGELO. 

Have I no genius for the art, think'st thou ? 

TOMASO. 

Thou! ha! ha! 

ANGELO. 

By thy laughing, thou wouldst say no ! 

TOMASO. 

Thou a genius ! Look ! Master Angelo 1 Have I not 
seen thee every day since thou wert no bigger than thy 
pencil ? 

ANGELO. 

And if thou hast? 

TOMASO. 

Do I not know thee from crown to heel ? Dost thou not 
come in at thajt door as I do ? — sit down in that chair as 
I do ? — eat, drink^ and sleep, as I do ? Dost thou not call 
me Tomaso, and I thee Angelo ? 

ANGELO. 

Well! 

TOMASO. 

Then how canst thou have genius ? Are there no 
marks? Would I clap thee on the back, and say good 



SCENE II.] THE USURER. 23 

morrow ? Nay, look thee ! would I stand here telling thee 
in my wisdom what thou art, if thou wert a genius ? Go 
to, Master Angelo ! I love thee well, but thou art compre- 
hensible ! 

ANGELO. 

But think'st thou never of my works, Tomaso? 

TOMASO. 

Thy works ! Do I not grind thy paints ? Do I not see 
thee take up thy pallette, place thy foot thus, and dab here, 
dab there ? I tell thee thou hast never done stroke yet, 
I could not take the same brush and do after thee. Thy 
works, truly ! 

ANGELO. 

How think'st thou would Donatello paint, if he were 
here ? 

TOMASO. 

Donatello ! I will endeavor to show thee ! ( Takes the 
pallette and brush with a mysterious air.) The pic- 
ture should be there ! His pencil, {throws down Ange- 
lo^s pencil^ and seizes a hroom^) his pencil should be as 
long as this broom ! He should raise it thus — with his 
eyes rolling thus — and with his body thrown back thus ! 

ANGELO. 

What then? 

TOMASO. 

Then he should see something in the air — a sort of a 



•X 



24 TORTESA [act I. 

hm — ha — r — r — rrrrr — (you understand.) And he 
first strides off here and looks at it — then he strides off 
there and looks at it — then he looks at his long brush — 
then he makes a dab ! dash ! flash ! {Makes three strokes 
across Angelo^s picture.) 

ANGELO. 

Villain, my picture! Tomaso! (seizes his sword.) 
With thy accursed broom thou hast spoiled a picture 
Donatello could ne'er have painted ! Say thy prayers, for, 
by the Virgin ! — 

TOMASO. 

Murder ! murder ! help ! Oh, my good master ! Oh, 
my kind master ! 

ANGELO. 

Wilt say thy prayers, or die a sinner? Gluick! or 
thou'rt dead ere 'tis thought on ! 

TOMASO. 

Help ! help I mercy ! oh mercy ! 
lEnter the Duke hastily^ folloioedhy Falcone and at^ 
tendants,] 

DUKE, 

Who calls so loudly ? What ! drawn swords at mid -day ! 
Disarm him ! Now, what mad-cap youth art thou ? 

(To Angelo^) 
To fright this peaceful artist from his toil ? 
Rise up, sir ! ( To Tomaso.) 



SCENE II.] THE USURER. 25 

ANGELO, (aside,) 

(Could my luckless star have brought 
The Duke here at no other time!) 

DUKEj {looking round on the pictures,) 
Why, here's 
Matter worth stumbling on ! By Jove, a picture 
Of admirable work ! Look here, Falcone ! 
Did'st think there was a hand unknown in Florence 
Could lay on color with a skill like this 1 

TOMAso, {aside to Angelo,) 
Did'st thou hear that? 
{Duke and Falcone admire the pictures in dumb show.) 

ANGELO, {aside to Tomaso.) 
(The pallette's on thy thumb — 
Swear 'tis thy work !) 

TOMASO. 

Mine, master ? 

ANGELO. 

Seest thou not 
The shadow of my fault will fall upon it 
While I stand here a culprit ? The Duke loves thee 
As one whom he has chanc'd to serve at need, 
And kindness mends the light upon a picture, 
I know that well ! 

FALCONE, {to Tomaso,) 
The Duke would know your name, Sir ! 
3 



26 TORTESA [act I. 

TOMAso, (as Angelo pulls him by the sleeve,) 
Tom — Angelo, my lord ! 

DUKEj (to Falcone,) 
We've fallen here 
Upon a treasure ! 

FALCONE. 

'Twas a lucky chance 
That led you in, my lord ! 

DUKE. 

I blush to think 
That I might ne'er have found such excellence 
But for a chance cry, thus ! Yet now 'tis found 
I'll cherish it, believe me. 

FALCONE. 

'Tis a duty 
Your Grace is never slow to. 

DUKE. 

I've a thought — 
If you'll consent to it ? 

FALCONE. 

Before 'tis spoken, 
My gracious liege ! 

DUKE. 

You know how well my duchess 
Loves your fair daughter. Not as maid of honor 



SCENE II.] THE USURER. 27 

Lost to our service, but as parting child, 
We grieve to lose her. 

FALCONE. 

My good lord ! 

DUKE. 

Nay, nay — 
She is betroth'd now, and you needs must wed her ! 
My thought was, to surprise my grieving duchess 
With a resemblance of your daughter, done 
By this rare hand, here. 'Tis a thought well found, 
You'll say it is ! 

FALCONE, (hesitating,) 

Your Grace is bound away 

On a brief journey. Were't not best put oj0f 

Till our return ? 

DUKE, (laughing,) 

I see you fear to let 
The sun shine on your rose-bud till she bloom 
Fairly in wedlock. But this painter, see you, 
Is an old man, of a poor, timid bearing. 
And may be trusted to look close upon her. 
Come, come ! I'll have my way ! Good Angelo, 

(To Tomaso,) 
A pen and ink ! And you, my lord Falcone ! 
Write a brief missive to your gentle daughter 
T' admit him privately. 



•1 

28 TOETESA [act I. ' 

FALCONE. 1 

I will, Duke. [ Writes. I 

ANGELO, (aside.) j 

(Now I 

Shall I go back or forwards ? If he writes | 

Admit this Angela^ why, I am he, j 

And that rare phoenix, hidden from the world, | 

Sits to my burning pencil. She's a beauty - 

Without a parallel, they say in Florence. ' 

Her picture '11 be remembered ! Let the Duke I 

Rend me with horses, it shall ne'er be said \ 

I dared not pluck at Fortune !) i 

TOMAso, (aside to Angelo.) \ 

Signor ! ,■ 



ANGELO. 

(Hush! 
Betray me, and I'll kill thee !) 

DUKE. 

Angelo ! 
ANGELO, (aside to Tomaso.) 
Speak, or thou diest ! 
TOMAso, (to the Duke,) 
My lord ! 

DUKE. 

Thou hast grown old 
In the attainment of an excellence 



SCENE II.] THE USURER. 29 

Well worth thy time and study. The clear touch, 
Won only by the patient toil of years. 
Is on your fair works yonder. 

TOMAso, (astonished.) 

Those, my lord ! 

DUKE. 

I shame I never saw them until now^ 
But here's a new beginning. Take this missive 
From Count Falcone to his peerless daughter. 
I'd have a picture of her for my palace. 
Paint me her beauty as I know you can. 
And as you do it well, my favor to you 
Shall make up for the past. 

TOMAso, (as Angelo pulls his sleeve.) 
Your Grace is kind ! 

DUKE. 

For this rude youth, name you his punishment ! 

( Turns to Angelo.) 
His sword was drawn upon an unarm' d man. 
He shall be fined, or, as you please, imprisoned. 
Speak ! 

TOMASO. 

If your Grace would bid him pay — • 

DUKE. 

What sum 7 

TOMASO. 

Some twenty flasks of wine, my gracious liege, 
3* 



30 TOKTESA [act I. 

If it SO please you. 'Tis a thriftless servant 
I keep for love I bore to his dead father. 
But all his faults are nothing to a thirst 
That sucks my cellar dry ! 

DUKE. 

He's well let off! 
Write out a bond to pay of your first gains 
The twenty flasks ! 

ANGELO. 

Most willingly, my liege. [ Writes. 
DUKE J (to Tomaso.) 
Are you content ? 

TOMASO. 

Your Grace, I am ! 

DUKE. 

Come then ! 
Once more to horse ! Nay, nay, man, look not black ! 
Unless your daughter were a wine-flask, trust me 
There's no fear of the painter ! 

FALCONE. 

So I think. 
And you shall rule me. 'Tis the roughest shell 
Hides the good pearl. Adieu, Sir ! (to Tomaso,) 

[^Exeunt Duke and Falcone. 

(Angelo seizes the missive from Tomaso, and strides 
up and down the stage, reading it exultingly. After 



SCENE 11.] THE USURER. 31 

looking at Mm a moment^ Tomaso does the same with 
the bond for the twenty flasks.) 

ANGELO. 

Give the letter ! 
Oh, here is golden opportunity — 
The ladder at my foot, the prize above. 
And angels beckoning upwards. I will paint 
A picture now, that in the eyes of men 
Shall live like loving daylight. They shall cease 
To praise it for the constant glory of it. 
There's not a stone built in the palace wall 
But shall let thro' the light of it, and Florence 
Shall be a place of pilgrimage for ever 
To see the work of low-born Angelo. 
Oh that the world were made without a night, 
That I could toil while in my fingers play 
This dexterous lightning, wasted so in sleep, 
m out, and muse how I shall paint this beauty, 
So, wile the night away. \^Exit. 

TOMASo, {coming forward with his bond,) 
Prejudice aside, that is a pleasant-looking piece of pa- 
per ! (Holds it offj and regards it with a pleased air,) 
Your bond to pay, now, is an ill-visaged rascal — you 
would know him across a church — nay — with the wind 
fair, smell him a good league ! But this has, in some 
sort, a smile. It is not like other paper. It reads melli- 
fluously. Your name is in the right end of it for music. 
Let me dwell upon it I ( Unfolds it, and reads) " /, Tb- 



32 TORTESA [act I. 

maso, promise to pay " — stay ! " /, Tomaso—I To- 
maso promise to pay to Angelo my master twenty 
flasks of wine P^ {Rubs his eyes, and turns the note over 
and over.) There's a damnable twist in it that spoils 
all. ^'ITomaso^'' — why, that's /. And ^' I promise to 
pay " — Now, I promise no such thing ! ( Turns it upside 
down, and, after trying in vain to alter the reading, 
tears it in two.) There are some men that cannot 
write ten words in their own language without a blunder. 
Out, filthy scraps. If the Glover's daughter have not com- 
passion upon me, I die of thirst ! I'll seek her out ! A pest 
on ignorance 1 

{Pulls his hat sulkily over his eyes, and walks off.) 



SCENE III. 

[An Apartment in the Falcone Palace, Angelo dis- 
covered listening.] 

ANGELO. 

Did I hear footsteps? (He listens,) Fancy plays me 

tricks 
In my impatience for this lovely wonder ! 
That window's to the north ! The light falls cool. 



SCENE III.] THE USURER. 33 

I'll set my easel here, and sketch her — Stay ! 
How shall I do that? Is she proud or sweet? 
Will she sit silent, or converse and smile ? 
Will she be vexed or pleased to have a stranger 
Pry through her beauty for the soul that's in it? 
Nay, then I heard a footstep — she is here ! 

(Enter Isabella, reading herfather'^s missive.) 

ISABELLA. 

" The duke would have your picture for the duchess 
Done by this rude man, Angelo ! Receive him 
With modest privacy, and let your kindness 
Be measured by his merit, not his garb." 

ANGELO. 

Fair lady ! 

ISABELLA. 

Who speaks? 

ANGELO. / 

Angelo ! 

ISABELLA. 

You've come. Sir, 
To paint a duU face, trust me ! 

ANGELO, (^aside.) 

(Beautiful, 
Beyond all dreaming !) 

ISABELLA. 

I've no smiles to show you, 
Not ev'n a mock one ! Shall I sit ? 



34 TOETESA [act I. 

ANGELO. 

No, lady I 
I'll steal your beauty while you move, as well ! 
So you but breathe, the air still brings to me 
That which outdoes all pencilling. 

ISABELLA, (walking apart,) 
His voice 
Is not a rude one. What a fate is mine, 
When ev'n the chance words on a poor youth's tongue. 
Contrasted with the voice which I should love. 
Seems rich and musical! 

ANGELO, (to himself^ as he draws,) 

How like a swan, 
Drooping his small head to a lily-cup, 
She curves that neck of pliant ivory ! 
I'll paint her thus ! 

ISABELLA, (aside,) 

Forgetful where he is. 
He thinks aloud. This is, perhaps, the rudeness 
My father fear?d might anger me. 

ANGELO. 

What color 
Can match the clear red of those glorious lips ? 
Say it were possible to trace the arches. 
Shaped like the drawn bow of the god of love — 
How tint them, after ? 



SCENE III.] THE USURER. 35 

ISABELLA. 

Still, he thinks not of me. 
But murmurs to his picture. 'Twere sweet praise. 
Were it a lover whispering it. I'll listen, 
As I walk, still. 

ANGELO. 

They say, a cloudy veil 
Hangs ever at the crystal-gate of heaven, 
To bar the issue of its blinding glory. 
So droop those silken lashes to an eye 
Mortal could never paint ! 

ISABELLA. 

There's flattery, 
Would draw down angels ! 

ANGELO. 

Now, what alchymy 
Can mock the rose and lily of her cheek 1 
I must look closer on't ! {Advancing,) Fair lady, please 

you, 
I'll venture to your side. 

ISABELLA. 

Sir ! 
ANGELO, {examining her cheek,) 

There's a mixture 
Of white and red here, that defeats my skill. 
If you'll forgive me, I'll observe an instant, 



36 TORTESA [act I. 

How the bright blood and the transparent pearl 
Melt to each other ! 

ISABELLA, {receding from him,) 
You're too free. Sir ! 
ANGELO, {\oith surprise.) 

Madam! 
ISABELLA, {aside,) 
And yet, I think not so. He must look on it, 
To paint it well. 

ANGELO. 

Lady ! the daylight's precious ! 
Pray you, turn to me ! In my study, here, 
I've tried to fancy how that ivory shoulder 
Leads the white light oifffrom your arching neck, 
But cannot, for the envious sleeve that hides it. 
Please you, displace it! 

{Raises his hand to the sleeve,) 

ISABELLA. 

Sir, you are too bold! 

ANGELO. 

Pardon me, lady ! Nature's masterpiece 

Should he beyond your hiding, or my praise ! 

Were you less marvellous, I were too bold ; 

But there's a pure divinity in beauty. 

Which the true eye of art looks on with reverence, 

Though, like the angels, it were all unclad ! 

You have no right to hide it ! 



SCENE III.] THE USURER. 37 

ISABELLA. 

How? No right? 

ANGELO. 

'Tis the religion of our art, fair madam ! 
That, by oft looking on the type divine 
In which we first were moulded, men remember 
The heav'n they're born to ! YouVe an errand here. 
To show how look the angels. But, as Vestals 
Cherish the sacred fire, yet let the priest 
Light his lamp at it for a thousand altars, 
So is your beauty unassoiled, though I 
Ravish a copy for the shut-out world ! 
ISABELLA, (aside.) 
Here is the wooing that should win a maid ! 
Bold, yet respectful — free, yet full of honor ! 
I never saw a youth with gentler eyes 5 
I never heard a voice that pleased me more ; 
Let me look on him ? 

(Enter Tortesa, unperceived,) 

ANGELO. 

In a form like yours. 
All parts are perfect, madam ! yet, unseen. 
Impossible to fancy. With your leave 
m see your hand unglov'd. 

ISABELLA, (removing her glove.) 

I have no heart 
To keep it from you, signor ! There it is ! 

4 



38 TORTESA [act T, 

ANGELO3 {taking it in his own,) 
Oh God ! how beautiful thy works may be ! 
Inimitably perfect ! Let me look 
Close on the tracery of these azure veins ! 
With what a delicate and fragile thread 
They weave their subtle mesh beneath the skin. 
And meetj all blushing, in these rosy nails ! 
How soft the texture of these tapering fingers! 
How exquisite the wrist ! How perfect all ! 

( Tortesa rushes forward.) 

TORTESA. 

Now have I heard enough ! Why, what are you, 
To palm the hand of my betrothed bride 
With this licentious freedom? 

(Angelo turns composedly to his work.) 

And you, madam ! 
With a first troth scarce cold upon your lips — 
Is this your chastity ? 

ISABELLA. 

My father's roof 
Is over me ! I'm not your wife ! 

TORTESA. 

Bought ! paid for! 
The wedding toward — have I no right in you ? 
Your father, at my wish, bade you be private ; 
Is this obedience ? 



SCENEIII.] THE USURER. 39 

ISABELLA. 

Count Falcone's will 
Has, to his daughter, ever been a law ; 
This, in prosperity — and now, when chance 
Frowns on his broken fortunes, I were dead 
To love and pity, were not soul and body 
Spent for his smallest need ! I did consent 
To wed his ruthless creditor for this ! 
I would have sprung into the sea, the grave, 
As questionless and soon ! My trotk is yours I 
But I'm not wedded yet, and, till I am, 
The hallowed honor that protects a maid 
Is round me, like a circle of bright fire ! 
A savage would not cross it — nor shall you ! 
I'm mistress of my presence. Leave me, Sir ! 

TORTESA. 

There's a possession of some lordly acres 
Sold to Falcone for that lily hand ! 
The deed's delivered, and the hand's my own ! 
I'll see that no man looks on't. 

ISABELLA. 

Shall a lady 
Bid you begone twice? 

TORTESA. 

Twenty times, iPt please you! 

{She looks at Angela^ who continues tranquilly paint- 
ing,') 



40 TORTESA [act I. 

ISABELLA. 

Does he not wear a sword ? Is he a coward, 
That he can hear this man heap insult on me, 
And ne'er fall on him ? 

TORTESA. 

Lady I to your chamber ! 
I have a touch to give this picture, here. 
But want no model for't. Come, come. 

{Offers to take her by the arm.) 

ISABELLA. 

Stand back I 
Now, will he see this wretch lay hands on me, 
And never speak? He cannot be a coward ! 
Noj no ! some other reason — not a coward I 
I could not love a coward ! 

TORTESA. 

If you will, 
Stay where you're better miss'd — 'tis at your pleasure ; 
I'll hew your kisses from the saucy lips 
Of this bold painter — look on't, if you will ! 
And first, to mar his picture ! 

(He strikes at the canvass, when Angela suddenlr^ 
draws, attacks and disarms him,) 

ANGELO. 

Hold ! What wouldst thou 1 
Fool ! madman ! dog I What wouldst thou with my pic- 
ture? 



SCENE III.] THE USURER. 41 

Speak ! — But thy life would not bring back a ray 
Of precious daylight, and I cannot waste it ! 
Begone ! begone ! 

( Throws Tortesa?s stoord from the window , and re- 
turns to his picture.) 

I'll back to paradise ! 

'Twas this touch that he marr'd ! So ! fair again ! 

TORTESAj (going out.) 

I'll find you, Sir, when I'm in cooler blood ! 

And, madam, you ! or Count Falcone /or you. 

Shall rue this scorn ! [Exit. 

ISABELLA, {looking at Angelo.) 

Lost in his work once more ! 
I shall be jealous of my very picture ! 
Yet one who can forget his passions so — 
Peril his life, and, losing scarce a breath. 
Turn to his high, ambitious toil again — 
Must have a heart for whose belated waking 
Queens might keep vigil ! 

ANGELO. 

Twilight falls, fair lady ! 
I must give o'er ! Pray heaven, the downy wing 
Of its most loving angel guard your beauty ! 
Good night 1 

(Goes out with a low reverence. 
4* 



42 TOR TES A THE USURER. [aCT I. 

ISABELLA. 

Good night ! 
(She looks after him a moment^ and then walks 
thoughtfully off the stage*) 



END OF THE FIRST ACT^ 



ACT IL 

SCENE L 

[ Tomaso discovered sitting at his supper, with a bottle 
of water before him.'] 

TOMASO. 

Water! {Sips a little with a grimace,) I think, 
since the world was drowned in it, it has tasted of sin- 
ners. The pious throat refuses it. Other habits grow 
pleasant with use — but the drinking of water lessens the 
liking of it. Now, why should not some rivers run wine ? 
There are varieties in the eatables — will any wise 
man tell me why there should be but one drinkable in 
nature — and that water 1 My mind's made up^ — it's the 
curse of transgression. 

{A rap at the door,) 

Come in ! 

{^Enter Zippa, with a basket and bottle,'] 

ZIPPA. 

Good even, Tomaso ! 

TOMASO. 

Zippa ! I had a presentiment — 



44 TORTESA [act II. 

ZIPPA. 

What ! of my coming ? 

TOMASO. 

No — of thy bottle ! Look ! I was stinting myself in 
water to leave room ! 

ZIPPA. 

The reason is superfluous. There would be room in 
thee for wine, if thou wert drowned in the sea. 

TOMASO. 

God forbid ! 

ZIPPA. 

What — that thou shouldst be drowned ? 

TOMASO. 

No — but that being drowned, I should have room for 
wine. 

ZIPPA. 

Why, now ? — why ? 

TOMASO. 

If I had room for wine, I should want it— and to want 
wine in the bottom of the sea, were a plague of Sodom. 

ZIPPA. 

Where's Angelo? 

TOMASO. 

What's in thy bottle 1 Show ! Show ! 



SCENE I.] THE US IT RE R. 45 

ZIPPA. 

Tell me where he is — whathehas done since yesterday 
— what thought on — what said — how he has looked, and 
if he still loves me ; and when thou art thirsty with 
truth-telling — (dry work for such a liar as thou art,) — 
thou shalt learn what is in my bottle 1 

TOMASO. 

Nay — learning be hanged I 

ZIPPA. 

So says the fool 1 

TOMASO. 

Speak advisedly ! Was not Adam blest till he knew 
good and evil ? 

ZIPPA, 

Right for once. 

TOMASO. 

Then he lost Paradise by too much learning. 

ZIPPA, 

Ha ! ha ! Hadst thou been consulted, we should still 
be there I 

TOMASO, 

Snug ! I would have had my inheritance in a small 
vineyard ! 

ZIPPA, 

Tell me what I ask of thee. 



46 TOKTESA [act II. 

TOMASO. 

Thou shalt have a piece of news for a cup of wine — 
pay and take — till thy bottle be dry ! 

ZIPPA. 

Come on, then ! and if thou must lie, let it be flattery. 
That's soonest forgiven. 

TOMASO. 

And last forgotten ! Pour out ! {She "pours a cup 
fullj and gives Mm,) The Duke was here yesterday. — 

ZIPPA. 

Lie the first ! 

TOMASO. 

And made much of my master's pictures. 

ZIPPA. 

Nay — that would have made two good lies. Thou'rt 
prodigal of stuff! 

TOMASO. 

Pay two glasses, then, and square the reckoning ! 

ZIPPA. 

Come ! Lie the third ! 

TOMASO. 

What wilt thou wager it's a lie, that Angelo is paint- 
ing a court lady for the duchess ? 

ZIPPA. 

Oh Lord ! Take the bottle ! They say there's truth 



SCENE I.] THE USXJEER. 47 

in wine — but as truth is impossible to thee, drink thy seif^ 
at least, down to probabilities I 

TOMASO. 

Look you there ! When was virtue encouraged ? Here 
have I been telling God's truth, and it goes for a lie. 
Hang virtue ! Produce thy cold chicken, and I'll tell 
thee a lie for the wings and two for the side-bones and 
breast. ( Offers to take the chicken.) 

ZIPPA. 

Stay ! stay I It's for thy master, thou glutton ! 

TOMASO. 

Who's ill a-bed, and forbid meat. {Angela enters.^ 
I would have told thee so before, but feared to grieve 
thee. (She would have a lie !) 

ZIPPA, {starting up.) 
Ill ! Angelo ill ! Is he very ill, good Tomaso? 

TOMASO. 

Very! {Seizes the chick en^ as Angelo claps him on 
the shoulder.) 

ANGELO. 

Will thy tricks never end ? 

TOMASO. 

Ehem ! ehem ! ( Thrusts the chicken into his pockets) 

ANGELO. 

How art thou, Zippa ? 



48 TORTESA [act II. \ 

ZIPPA. 

Well, dear Angelo ! ( Giving him her hand.) And i 
thou wert not ill, indeed^? | 

ANGELO. I 

Never better, by the test of a true hand ! I have done ^ 
work to-day, I trust will be remembered ! \ 

ZlPPA. ^ 

Is it true it's a fair lady ? \ 

ANGELO. i 

A lady with a face so angelical, Zippa, that — ! 

ZIPPA. \ 

That thou didst forget mine ? \ 

ANGELO. i 

In truth, I forgot there was such a thing as a world, and 
so forgot all in it. I was in heaven ! I 

TOMAso, (aside, as he picks the leg of the chicken.) ; 

(Prosperity is excellent white-wash, and her love is j 

an old score !) ! 

i 

ZIPPA^ (bitterly.) 
I am glad thou wert pleased, Angelo ! — very glad I ' 

TOMAso, (aside.) . | 

i 
(Glad as an eel to be fried.) 

ZIPPA, (aside.) 
("In Heaven," was he I If I pay him not that, may 



SCENE I.] THE USURER. 49 

my brains rot ! By what right, loving me, is he " in 
Heaven" with another ?) 

TOMAso, (aside.) 
(No more wine and cold chicken from that quarter !) 

zippAj (aside.) 
(Tortesa loves me, and my false game may be played 
true. If he wed not Falcone's daughter, he will wed me, 
and so I am revenged on this fickle Angelo ! I have the 
heart to do it ! 

ANGELO. 

■What dost thou muse on, Zippa? 

ZIPPA. 

On one I love better than thee. Signer ! 

ANGELO. 

What, angry ? (Seizes his pencil.) Hold there till 
I sketch thee ! By Jove, thou'ri not half so pretty when 
thou'rt pleased ! 

ZIPPA. 

Adieu, Signor ! your mockery will have an end ! 
( Goes out with an angry air.) 

ANGELO. 

What ! gone ? Nay, I'll come with thee, if thou'rt in 
earnest ! What whim's this ? ( Takes up his hat.) 
Ho, Zippa ! (Follows in pursuit.) 

TOMASo, ('pulls the chicken from his pocket.) 
Come forth, last of the chickens ! She wiU ne'er 
5 



50 TORTESA [act II 

forgive him, and so ends the succession of cold fowl! 
One glass to its memory, and then to bed! (Drinks, and 
takes up the candle.) A woman is generally unsafe — 
but a jealous one spoils all confidence in drink. 

\^Exit, muttering. 



SCENE IL 

\^An Apartment in the Falcone Palace, Enter Ser- 
vant, shewing in Zippa.'] 

SERVANT. 

Wait here, if't please you I 

ZIPPA. 

Thanks ! (Exit Servant.) My heart misgives me ! 

'Tis a bold errand I am come upon — 

And I a stranger to her ! Yet, perchance 

She needs a friend— the proudest do sometimes — 

And mean ones may be welcome. Look ! she comes ! 

ISABELLA. 

You wished to speak with me ? 

ZlPPA. 

I did— hut now 
My memory is crept into my eyes ; 



SCENE II.] THEUSirRER. 51 

I cannot think for gazing on your beauty ! 
Pardon me, lady ! 

ISABELLA. 

You're too fair yourself 
To find my face a wonder. Speak ! Who are you ? 

ZIPPA. 

Zippa, the Glover's daughter, and your friend ! 

ISABELLA. 

My friend? 

ZlPPA, 

I said SO. You're a noble lady 
And I a low-born maid — yet I have come 
To offer you my friendship. 

ISABELLA. 

This seems strange I 

ZIPPA. 

I'll make it less so, if you'll give me leave. 

ISABELLA. 

You'll please me ! 

ZIPPA. 

Briefly — for the time is precious 
To me as well as you — I have a lover, 
A true one, as I think, who yet finds boldness 
To seek your hand in marriage. 

ISABELLA. 

How ? We're rivals ! 



52 TORTESA [act II. 

ZIPPA. 

Tortesa loves me, and for that I'd wed him. 
Yet I'm not sure I love him more than you — 
And you must hate him. 

ISABELLA. 

So far freely spoken — 
What was your thought in coming to me now ? 

ZIPPA. 

To mar your match with him, and so make mine I 

ISABELLA. 

Why, free again ! Yet, as you love him not 
'Tis strange you seek to wed him 1 

ZIPPA. 

Oh no, madam I 
Woman loves once unthinkingly. The heart 
Is born with her first love, and, new to joy. 
Breathes to the first wind its delicious sweetness. 
But gets none back ! So comes its bitter wisdom '. 
When next we think of love, 'tis who loves us ! 
I said Tortesa loved me ! 

ISABELLA. 

You shall have him 
With ail my heart I See — I'm your friend already \ 
And friends are equals. So approach, and teU me. 
What was this first love like, that you discourse 
So prettily upon ? 



SCENE II.] THE USUKER. 53 

zipPAj (aside.) 
(Dear Angelo ! 
'Twill be a happiness to talk of him !) 
I loved a youth^ kind madam ! far beneath 
The notice of your eyes, unknown and poor. 

ISABELLA. 

A handsome youth ? 

ZIPPA. 

Indeed, I thought him so ! 
But you would not. I loved him out of pity ; 
No one cared for him. 

ISABELLA. 

Was he so forlorn ? 

ZIPPA. 

He was our neighbor, and I knew his toil 
Was almost profitless ; and 'twas a pleasure 
To fill my basket from our wasteful table, 
And steal, at eve, to sup with him, 

ISABELLA, (smiling.) 

Why, that 
Was charity, indeed ! He loved you for it — 
Was't not so ? 

ZIPPA. 

He was like a brother to me — 
The kindest brother sister ever had. 
I built my hopes upon his gentleness : 

5* 



54 TORTESA [act II. 

He had no other quality to love. 

Th' ambitious change — so do the fiery-hearted : 

The lowly are more constant. 

ISABELLA. 

And yelj he 
Was J after all, a false one '? 

ZIPPA. 

Nay, dear lady ! 
ni check my story there ! 'Twould end in anger, 
Perhaps in tears. If I am not too bold. 
Tell me, in turn, of all your worshippers — 
Was there ne'er one that pleased you ? 

ISABELLA, {aside.) 

(Now could I 
Prate to this humble maid, of Angelo, 
Till matins rang again!) My gentle Zippa ! 
I have found all men prompt to talk of love, 
Save only one. I will confess to you. 
For that one could I die I Yet, so unlike 
Your faithless lover must I draw his picture. 
That you will wonder how such opposites 
Could both be loved of women. 

ZIPPA. 

Was he fair^ 
Or brown ? 

ISABELLA. 

In truth, I marked not his complexion. 



SCENE II.] THEUSITKER. 55 



TaU? 



ziprA. 

ISABELLA. 

That I know not 

ZIPPA. 

Well — robust, or slight ? 

ISABELLA. 

I cannot tell, indeed ! I heard him speak — 
Looked in his eyes, and saw him calm and angered- 
And see him now, in fancy, standing there — 
Yet know not limb or feature ! 

ZIPPA. 

You but saw 
A shadow, lady ! 

ISABELLA. 

Nay — I saw a soul ! 
His eyes were light with it. The forehead lay 
Above their fires in calm tranquillity, 
As the sky sleeps o'er thunder-clouds. His look 
Was mixed of these — earnest, and yet subdued- 
Gentle, yet passionate — sometimes half god-like 
In its command, then mild and sweet again, 
Like a stern angel taught humility ! 
Oh ! when he spoke, my heart stole out to him \ 
There was a spirit-echo in his voice — 
A sound of thought — of under-playing music — 



56 TORTESA [act II. 

As if, before it ceased in human ears. 
The echo was caught up in fairy -land ! 

ZIPPA. 

Was he a courtier, madam? 

ISABELLA. 

He's as lowly 
In birth and fortunes, as your false one, Zippa ! 
Yet rich in genius, and of that ambition, 
That he'll outlast nobility with fame. 
Have you seen such a man ? 

ZIPPA. 

Alas ! sweet lady ! 
My life is humble, and such wondrous men 
Are far above my knowing. I could wish 
To see one ere I died ! 

ISABELLA. 

You shall^ believe me ! 
But while we talk of lovers, we forget 
In how brief time you are to win a husband. 
Come to my chamber, Zippa, and I'll see 
How with your little net you'll snare a bird 
Fierce as this rude Tortesa ! 

ZIPPA. 

We will find 
A way, dear lady, if we die for it ! 

ISABELLA. 

Shall we ? Come with me, then ! {^Exeunt. 



SCENE IIT.] THE USURER. 57 



SCENE III. 

[^An Apartment in the Falcone Palace. Tortesa alone 
waiting' the retur-n of the Count.] 

TORTESA, (musing.) 
There are some luxuries too rich for purchase. 
Your soul, 'tis said, will buy them, of the devil — 
Money'' s too poor ! What would I not give, now. 
That I could scorn what I can hate and ruin ! 
Scorn is the priceless luxury ! In heaven, 
The angels pity. They are blest to do so ; 
For, pitying, they look down. We do't by scorn ! 
There lies the privilege of noble birth !— 
The jewel of that bloated toad is scorn ! 
You may take all else from him. You — being mean- 
May get his palaces— may wed his daughter — 
Sleep in his bed — have all his peacock menials 
Watching your least glance, as they did " my lord's j" 
And, well-possess'd thus, you may pass him by 
On his own horse ; and while the vulgar crowd 
Gape at your trappings, and scarce look on him — 
He, in his rags, and starving for a crust — 
You'll feel his scorn, through twenty coats of mail, 
Hot as a sun-stroke ! Yet there's something for us ! 
Th' archangel fiend, when driven forth from heaven. 
Put on the serpent, and found sweet revenge 
Trailins^ his slime through Eden ! So will I ! 



58 TORTESA [act II. 

^Enter Falcone, booted and spurred.'] 

FALCONE. 

Good morrow^ signor, 

TORTESA. 

Well-arrived, my lord ! 
How sped your riding ? 

FALCONE. 

Fairly ! Has my daughter 
Left you alone ? 

TORTESA. 

She knows that I am here. 
Nay — she'll come presently ! A word in private. 
Since we're alone, my lord ! 

FALCONE. 

I listen, signor I 

TORTESA. 

Your honor, as I think, outweighs a bond ? 

FALCONE. 

'Twas never questioned. 

TORTESA. 

On your simple word, 
And such more weight as hangs upon the troth 
Of a capricious woman, I gave up 
A deed of lands to you. 



SCENE III.] THEITSUREIl. 59 

FALCONE. 
You did. 
TORTESA. 

To be 
Forfeit, and mine again — the match not made? 

FALCONE. 

How if you marr'd it ? 

TORTESA. 

17 I'm not a boy ! 

What I would yesterday, I will to-day ! 
I'm not a lover — 

FALCONE. 

How ? So near your bridal, 
And not a lover ? Shame, sir ! 

TORTESA. 

My lord count, 
You take me for a fool ! 

FALCONE. 

Is't like a fool 
To love a high-born lady, and your bride? 

TORTESA. 

Yes ; a thrice-sodden fool — if it were I ! 
I'm not a mate for her— you know I am not ! 
You know that, in her heart, your haughty daughter 
Scorns me — ineflfably ! 



60 TORTESA [act II. 

FALCONE. 

You seek occasion 
To slight her, signer ! 

TORTESA. 

No ! I'll marry her 
If all the pride that cast down Lucifer 
Lie in her bridal-ring ! But, mark me still ! 
I'm not one of your humble citizens. 
To biing my money-bags and make you rich-^ 
That, when we walk together, I may take 
Your shadow for my own ! These limbs are clay — 
Poor, common clay, my lord ! And she that weds me. 
Comes down to my estate. 

FALCONE. 

By this you mean not 
To shut her from her friends? 

TORTESA. 

You'll see your daughter 
By coming to my house — not else ! D'ye think 
I'll have a carriage to convey my wife 
Where she will hear me laughed at ? — buy fine horses 
To prance a measure to the mocking jeers 
Of fools that ride with her ? Nay — keep a table 
Where I'm the skeleton that mars the feast? 
No, no — nOj no ! 

FALCONE, {aside.) 

(With half the provocation, 



SCENE III.] THE USURER. 61 j 

I would, ere now, have struck an emperor ! r| 
But baser pangs make this endurable. 

I'm poor — so patience !) What was it beside 1 
You would have said to me ? 

TORTESA. ^ 

But this : Your daughter ■ 

Has, in your absence, covered me with scorn! I 
We'll not talk of it — if the match goes on, 
I care not to remember it ! (Aside.) (She shall — 

And bitterly !) | 

FALCONE, (aside.) 1 

(My poor, poor Isabella ! \ 

The task was too much !) ^ 

TORTESA. 

There's a cost of feeling — i 

You may not think it much — /reckon it ] 

A thousand pounds per day — in playing thus 

The suitor to a lady cramm'd with pride ! ] 

I've writ you out a bond to pay me for it ! 

See here ! — to pay me for my shame and pains, ? 

If I should lose your daughter for a wife, J 

A thousand pounds per day — dog cheap at that ! 1 

' 1 

Sign itj my lord, or give me back my deeds, ■ 

And traffic cease between us ! 

FALCONE. 

Is this earnest, i 

Or are you mad or trifling ? Do I not I 

6 i 



62 TOETESA [act II. 

Give you my daughter with an open hand? 
Are you betroth'd, or no ? 

[Enter a Servant,'] 
Who's this? 

SERVANT* 

A page 
Sent from the Duke* 

FALCONE* 

Admit him 1 
[^Enter -Page, with a letter,'} 

PAGE. 

For my lordy 
The Count Falcone. 

TORTESA, (aside,) 

(In a moment more 
I would have had a bond of such assurance 
Her father on his knees should bid me take her. 

( Looking at Falcone, who smiles as he reads,) 
What glads him now ?) 

FALCONE. 

You shall not have the bond ! 

TORTESA. 

No ? (aside.) (Here's a change ! What hint from 

Duke or devil 
Slits him to this ?) My lord, 'twere best the bridal 



SCENE III.] THE USURER. 63 

Took place upon the instant. Is your daughter 
Ready within ? 

FALCONE. 

You'll never wed my daughter ! 
[Enter IsabellaJj 

TORTESA. 

My lord ! 

FALCONE. 

She's fitlier mated ! Here she comes ! 
My lofty Isabella ! My fair child ! 
How dost thou, sweet ? 

ISABELLA, (embracing him.) 

Come home, and I not know it ! 
Art well ? I see thou art ! Hast ridden hard? 
My dear, dear father ! 

FALCONE. 

Give me breath to tell thee 
Some better news, my lov'd one ! 

ISABELLA. 

Nay, the joy 
To see you back again 's enough for now, ^ 

There can be no news better, and for this 
Let's keep a holiday twixt this and sunset ! 
Shut up your letter, and come see my flowers, 
And hear my birds sing, will you ? 



64 TORTESA [act II. 

FALCONE. 

Look, my darling, 
Upon this first ! {Holds up the letter,) 

ISABELLA. 

No ! you shall tell me all 
You and the Duke did — where you slept, where ate, 
Whether you dream'd of me — and, now I think on't, 
Found you no wild-flow'rs as you cross'd the mountain ? 

Falcone; 
My own bright child ! {Looks fondly upon her.) 
TORTESA, {aside.) 
('Twill mar your joy, my lord ! 
To see the Glover's daughter in your palace, 
And your proud daughter houseless !) 

FALCONE, {to Isabella.) 

You'll not hear 
The news I have for you ! 

TORTESA, {advancing.) 

Before you tell it, 
I'll take my own again ! 

ISABELLA, {aside.) 

(Tortesa here!) {curtseys.) 
I crave your pardon, sir; I saw you not! 
(Oh hateful monster!) {aside.) 

FALCONE. 

Listen to my news. 



SCENE III] THEUSURER. 65 

Signor Tortesa ! It concerns you, trust me ! 

ISABELLA, (aside.) 
(More of this hateful marriage !) 

TORTESA. 

Tell it briefly, 
My time is precious ! 

FALCONE. 

Sir, I'll sum it up 
In twenty words. The Duke has information, 
By what means yet I know not, that my need 
Spurs me to marry an unwilling daughter. 
He bars the match ! — redeems my lands and palace, 
And has enrich'd the young Count Julian, 
For whom he bids me keep my daughter's hand ! 
Kind, royal master ! (Reads the note to himself.) 

ISABELLA, (aside,) 
(Never !) 

TORTESA, (aside^ with suppressed rage.) 
('Tisalie! 
He's mad, or plays some trick to gain the time — ^ 
Or there's a woman hatching deviltry ! 
We'll see,) (Looks at Isabella.) 

ISABELLA, (aside.) 

(I'll die first ! Sold and taken back, 
Then thrust upon a husband paid to take me J 
To save my father I have weigh'd myself, 

6*# 



66 TORTESA [act II. 

Heart, hand, and honor, against so much land ! — 

I — Isabella ! I'm nor hawk nor hound, 

And, if I change my master, I will choose him! 

TORTESA, {aside.) 
She seems not over-pleased ! 



PAGE. 

Your pardon, Count ! 
I wait your answer to the Duke 1 

FALCONE. 

My daughter 
Shall give it you herself. What s\^^eet phrase have you, 
Grateful and eloquent, to bear your thanks ? 
Speak, Isabella ! 

ISABELLA, (aside.) 
(There's but one way left! 
Courage, poor heart, and think on Angelo !) 
{Advances suddenly to Tories a.) 
Signer Tortesa ! 

TORTESA. 

Madam ! 

ISABELLA. 

There's my hand ! 
Is't yours, or no? 

TORTESA. 

There was a troth between us ! 



SCENE III.] THEUSUREE. 67 



Is't broke ? 



ISABELLA. 
TORTESA. 

/have not broke it! 

ISABELLA. 

Then why stand you 
Mute as a statue, when 'tis struck asunder 
Without our wish or knowledge ? Would you be 
Half so indifferent had you lost a horse ? 
Am I worth having ? 

TORTESA. 

Is my life worth having ? 

ISABELLA. 

Then are you robb'd ! Look to it ! 

FALCONE. 

Is she mad ! 

TORTESA. 

You'll marry me ? 

ISABELLA. 

I will ! 

FALCONE. 

By heaven you shall not ! 
What, shall my daughter wed a leprosy — 
A bloated money -canker ? Leave her hand ! 
Stand from him, Isabella ! 



68 TORTESA [act ri. 

ISABELLA. 

Sir ! you gave me 
This ''leper" for a husband, three days gone ; 
I did not ask my heart if I could love him ! 
I took him with the meekness of a child. 
Trusting my father ! I was shut up for him — 
Forc'd to receive no other company — 
My wedding-clothes made, and the match proclaim'^ 
Through Florence ! 

FALCONE. 

Do you love him ? — tell me quickly ! 

ISABELLA. 

You never ask'd me that when I was bid 
To wed him ! 

FALCONE, 

I am dumb ! 

TORTESA. 

Ha ! ha ! well put ! 
At him again, 'Bell Well ! I've had misgivings 
That there was food in me for ladies' liking. 
I've been too modest ! 

ISABELLA, (aside.) 
(Monster of disgust !) 

FALCONE. 

My daughter ! I would speak with you in private I 
Signor ! you'll pardon me. 



SCENE III.] THE USURER. 69 

ISABELLA. 

Go you, dear father! 
I'll follow straight. [E.vit Falcone, 

TORTESA, (aside.) 

(She loiters for a kiss ! 
They're all alike ! The same trick woos them all !) 
Come to me, 'Bel ! 

ISABELLA, (coldly.) 

To-morrow at this hour 
You'll find the priest here, and the bridesmaids waiting. 
Till then, adieu ! lEa^it. 

TORTESA. 

Hola! what, gone ? Why, Bella ! 
Sweetheart! I say ! So ! She would coy it with me ! 
Well, well, to-morrow ! 'Tis not long, and kisses 
Pay interest by seconds ! There's a leg ! 
As she stood there, the calf shewed handsomely. 
Faith 'tis a shapely one ! I wonder now. 
Which of my points she finds most admirable ! 
Something I never thought on, like as not. 
We do not see ourselves as others see us. 
^T would not surprise me now, if 'twere my beard— 
My forehead ! I've a hand indifferent white ! 
Nay, I've been told my waist was neatly turn'd. 
We do not see ourselves as others see us ! 
How goes the hour? I'll home and fit my hose 



70 TORTESA THE USURER. [aCT II. 



END OF THE SECOND ACT. 



To tie trim for the morrow. (Going out.) Hem! the l 

cfoor's I 

Lofty. I like that ! I will have mine raised. i 

Your low door makes one stoop ! \_Exit. \ 



ACT III. 
SCENE I. 

{_Angelo discovered in his studio^ painting upon tht 
picture of Isabella,'] 

ANGELO. 

My soul is drunk with gazing on this face, 

1 reel and faint with it. In what sweet world 

Have I traced all its lineaments before ? 

1 know them. Like a troop of long-lost friends, 

My pencil wakes them with its eager touch, 

And they spring up, rejoicing. Oh, I'll gem 

The heaven of Fame with my irradiate pictures. 

Like kindUng planets — but this glorious one 

Shall be their herald, like the evening star. 

First-lit, and lending of its fire to all. 

The day fades — but the lamp burns on within me.- 

My bosom has no dark, no sleep, no change 

To dream or calm oblivion. I work on 

When my hand stops. The light tints fade. Good ftight, 

Fair image of the fairest thing on earthy 

Bright Isabella ! 



72 TORTESA [act III. 

{Leans on the rod with which he guides his hand, and 

remains looking at his picture.) 

l^Enter Tomaso, with two hags of money.'] 

TOMASO. 

For the most excellent painter, Angelo, two hundred 
ducats ! The genius of m^ master flashes upon me. 
The duke's greeting and two hundred ducats ! If I should 
not have died in my hlindness but for this eye-water, 
may I be hanged. (Looks at Angelo.) He is studying 
his picture. What an air there is about him — lofty, un- 
like the vulgar! Two hundred ducats! (Observes 
AngeWs hat on the table.) It strikes me now that I 
can see genius in that hat. It is not like a common hat. 
Not like a bought hat. The rim turns to the crown with 
an intelligence. ( Weighs the ducats in his hand.) 
Good heavy ducats. What it is to refresh the vision 1 
Ihave looked round, ere now, in this very chamber, and 
fancied that the furniture expressed a melancholy dul- 
ness. When he hath talked to me of his pictures, I have 
seen the chairs smile. Nay, as if shamed to listen, the 
very table has looked foolish. Now, all about me ex- 
presseth a choice peculiarity — as you would say, how like 
a genius to have such chairs ! What a painter-like ta- 
ble ! Two hundred ducats ! 

ANGELO. 

What hast thou for supper ? 

TOMASO. 

Two hundred ducats, my great master ! 



SCENE I.] THE USURER. 73 

ANGELO, {absently,) 
A cup of wine! Wine, Tomaso! {^Sits down. 

TOMASO. 

(So would the great Donatello have sat upon his chair ! 
His legs thus ! His hand falling thus !) {Aloud,) 
There is nought in the cellar hut stale beer, my illustri- 
ous master ! (Now, it strikes me that his shadow is un- 
like another man's — of a pink tinge, somehow — yet that 
may be fancy.) 

ANGELO. 

Hast thou no money ? Get wine, I say I 

TOMASO. 

I saw the duke in the market-place, who called me An- 
gelo, (we shall rue that trick yet,) and with a gracious 
smile asked me if thou hadst paid the twenty flasks. 

ANGELO, {not listening.) 
Is there no wine ? 

TOMASO. 

I said to his grace, no ! Pray mark the sequel : In pity 
of my thirst, the duke sends me two — ahem ! — one hun- 
dred ducats. Here they are I 

ANGELO. 

Didst thou say the wine was on the lees ? 

TOMASO. 

With these Jifty ducats we shall buy nothing but wine. 
(He will be rich with fifty.) 

7 



74 TORTESA [act III. 

ANGELO. 

What saidst thou ? 

TOMASO* 

I spoke of twenty ducats sent thee by the duke. Wilt 
thou finger them ere one is spent ? 

ANGELO. 

I asked thee for wine — I am parched. 

TOMASO. 

Of these ten ducats^ think'st thou we might spend one 
for a flask of better quality ? 

ANGELO. 

Lend me a ducat, if thou hast one, and buy wine pre- 
sently. Go ! 

TOMASO. 

I'll lend it thee, wilUngly. my illustrious master. It is 
my last, but as much mine as thine. 

ANGELO. 

Go! Go! 

TOMASO. 

Yet wait ! There's a scrap of news. Falcone's daugh- 
ter marries Tortesa, the usurer ? To-morrow is the bri- 
dal. 

ANGELO. 

How? 



SCENE I.] THE U SURER. 75 

TOMASO. 

I learned it in the market-place ! There will be rare 
doings ! 

ANGELO. 

Dog ! Villain ! Thou hast lied ! Thou dar'st not say- 
it ! 

TOMASO. 

Hey ! Art thou mad ? Nay — borrow thy ducat where 
thou canst ! I'll spend that's my own, Adieu, master ! 

(Exit TomasOj and enter Tortesa toith a complacent 
smile.) 

ANGELO. 

Ha !— well arrived I (Draws his sword. 

TORTESA. 

Good eve, good Signor Painter. 

ANGELO. 

You struck me yesterday. 

TORTESA. 

I harmed your picture— ^ 
For which I'm truly sorry — hut not you I 

ANGELO. 

Myself! myself! My picture is myself! 

What are my bones that rot ? Is this my hand ? — 

Is this my eye ? 



76 TORTESA [act III 

TORTESA. 

I think so. 

ANGELO. 

No, I say ! 
The hand and eye of Angelo are there ! 
There — there — {Points to his pictures) — immortal ! 

Wound me in the flesh, 
I will forgive you upon fair excuse. 
'Tis the earth round me — 'tis my shell — my house ; 
But in my picture lie my brain and heart — 
My soul — my fancy. For a blow at these 
There's no cold reparation. Draw, and quickly ! 
I'm in the mood to fight it to the death. 
Stand on your guard ! 

TORTESA. 

I will not fight with you. 

ANGELO. 

Coward ! 

TORTESA. 

I'm deaf. 

ANGELO. 

Feel then ! 
(Tortesa catches the blow as he strikes him^ and cold- 
ly flings hack his hand.) 

^ TORTESA. 

Nay, strike me not ! 
I'll call the guard, and cry out like a woman. 



SCENE I.] THE rSXJRER. 77 

ANGELOj {turning from him contemptuously.) 
What scent of dog's meat brought me such a cur ! 
It is a whip I want, and not a sword. 

TORTESAj (folding his arms.) 
I have a use for life so far above 
The stake you quarrel for, that you may choose 
Your words to please yourself. They'll please me, too. 
Yet you're in luck. I killed a man on Monday 
For spitting on my shadoio. Thursday's sun 
Will dry the insult, though it light on me I 

ANGELO. 

Oh, subtle coward I 

TORTESA. 

I am what you will. 
So I'm alive to marry on the morrow ! 
'Tis well, by Jupiter ! Shall you have power 
With half a breath to pluck from me a wife ! 
Shall I, against a life as poor as yours — 
Mine being precious as the keys of Heaven — 
Set all upon a throw, and no odds neither? 
I know what honor is as well as you ! 
I know the weight and measure of an insult — 
What it is worth to take or fling it back. 
I have the hand to fight if I've a mind ; 
And I've a heart to shut my sunshine in, 
And lock it from the scowling of the world^ 
Though all mankind cry " Coward !" 
7"^ 



78 TORTESA [act III. 

ANGELO. 

Mouthing braggart I 

TORTESA. 

I came to see my bride, my Isabella ! 

Show me her picture ! (Advances to look for it) 

ANGELO. 

Do but look upon 't, 
By heaven's fair light, I'll kill you ! [Draws. 

TORTESA. 

Soft, she's mine ! 
She loves me ! and with that to make life precious, 
I have the nerve to beat back Hercules, 
If you were he ! 

ANGELO, (attacking him.) 
Out ! Out ! thou shameless liar ! 
TORTESA, (retreating on the defence,) 
Thy blows and words fall pointless ! Nay, thou'rt mad ! 
But I'll not harm thee for her picture's sake ! 

ANGELO. 

Liar ! she hates thee ! 

(Beats him off the stage and returns, closing the door 
violently.) 
So ! once more alone ! 
{Takes Isabella's picture from the easel, and replaces 

it with Zippa's.) 
Back to the wall, deceitful loveliness ! 
And come forth^ Zippa, fair in honest truth ! 






SCENE I.] T H E TJ S r K E R . 79 

I'll make thee beautiful ! 

( Takes his pencil and palette to paint,) 
[il knock is heard,'] 

Who knocks ! come in ! 
\_Enter Isabella^ disguised as a monk.'] 

ISABELLA. 

Good morroWj signor ! 

ANGELo, (turning- sharply to the monk.) 
There'^s a face, old monk. 
Might stir your blood — ha ? You shall tell me, now, 
Which of these heavenly features hides the soul ! 
There is one ! I have worked upon the picture 
Till my brain's thick — I cannot see like you. 
Where is't? 

isABELLAj (aside.) 
(A picture of the Glover's daughter ! 
What does he, painting her!) Is't for its beauty 
You paint that face, sir ? 

ANGELO. 

Yes — th' immortal beauty ! 
Look here ! What see you in that face ? The skin — 

ISABELLA. 

Brown as a vintage-girl's ! 

ANGELO. 

The mouth — 

ISABELLA. 

A good one 
To eat and drink withal ! 



^m 



80 TORTESA [act III. 

ANGELO. 

The eye is — 

ISABELLA. 

Grey ! 
You'll buy a hundred like it for a penny I 

ANGELO. 



A hundred eyes'? 



ISABELLA. 

No. Hazel-nuts J 

ANGEL9. 

The forehead — ■ 



How find you that? 



ISABELLA. 

Why, made to match the rest I 
I'll cut as good a face out of an apple-^ 
For all that^s fair in it !' 

ANGELO. 

Oh, heaven, how dim 
Were God's most blessed image did all eyes 
Look on't like thine ! Is't by the red and white-- 
Is't by the grain and tincture of the skin-— 
Is't by the hair's gloss, or the forehead's arching, 
You know the bright inhabitant? I tell thee 
The spark of their divinity in some 
Lights up an inward face — so radiant. 
The outward lineaments are like a veil 
Floating before the sanctuary — forgot 
In glimpses of the glory streaming through [ 



SCENE I.] THE USURER. 81 

ISABELLA, {mournfully.) 
Is Zippa's face so radiant? 

ANGELO. 

Look upon it ! 
You see thro' all the countenance she's true ! 

ISABELLA. 

True to you^ signer ! 

ANGELO. 

To herself, old man ! 
Yet once^ to me too ! {dejectedly.) 

ISABELLA, {aside.) 

(Once to him! Can Zippa 
Have dared to love a man like Angelo ! 
I think she dare not. Yet if he, indeed, 
Were the inconstant lover that she told of — 
The youth who was " her neighbor !") Please you, sig- 

nor! 
Was that fair maid your neighbor ? 

ANGELO. 

Ay— the best ! 
A loving sister were not half so kind ! 
I never supp'd without her company. 
Yet she was modest as an unsunn'd lily, 
And bounteous as the constant perfume of it. 

ISABELLA, {aside.) 
('Twas he indeed ! Oh ! what a fair outside 



82 TORTESA [act III. 

Has falsehood there ! Yet stay ! If it were / 
Who made him false to her ? Alas, for honor, 
I must forgive him — tho' my lips are weary 
With telling Zippa how I thought him perjured! 
I cannot trust her more — I'll plot alone !) 
(TurnSj and takes her ovm picture from the wall.) 

ISABELLA. 

What picture's this, turned to the wall, good signor? 

ANGELO. 

A painted lie ! 

ISABELLA. 

A lie ! — nay — pardon me ! 
I spoke in haste. Methought 'twas like a lady 
I'd somewhere seen !— a lady — Isabella I 
But she was true ! 

ANGELO. 

Then 'tis not she I've drawn. 
For that's a likeness of as false a face 
As ever devil did his mischief under. 

ISABELLA. 

And yet methinks 'tis done most lovingly ! 
You must have thought it fair to dwell so on it, 

ANGELO. 

Your convent has the picture of a saint 
Tempted, while praying, by the shape of woman. 
The painter knew that woman was the devil. 
Yet drew her like an angel ! 



SCENE I.] THE USURER. 83 

ISABELLA, {aside.) 

(It is true 
He praised my beauty as a painter may — 
No more-— in words. He praised me as he drew — 
Feature by feature. But who calls the lip 
To answer for a perjured oath in love ? 
How should love breathe — how not die, choked for ut- 
terance, 
If words were all. He loved me with his eyes. 
He breathed it. Upon every word he spoke 
Hung an unuttered worship that his tongue 
Would spend a life to make articulate. 
Did he not take my hand into his own? 
And, as his heart sprang o'er that bridge of veins, 
Did he not call to mine to pass him on it — 
Each to the other's bosom ! I have sworn 
To love him — wed him — die with him — and yet 
He never heard me — but he knows it well. 
And, in his heart holds me to answer for it 
I'll try once more to find this anger out. 
If it be jealousy — why — then, indeed, 
He'll call me black, and I'll forgive it him ! 
For then my errand's done, and I'll away 
To play the cheat out that shall make him mine.) 
{Turns to Angelo.) Fair signor, by your leave, I've 

heard it said 
That in the beauty of a human face 
The God of Nature never writ a lie. 



84 TORTESA L-^^^ ^^^* 

ANGELO. 

'Tis likely true! 

ISABELLA. 

That howsoe'er the features 
Seem fair at first, a blemish on the soul 
Has its betraying speck that warns you of it. 

ANGELO. 

It should be so, indeed ! 

ISABELLA. 

Nay — here's a face 
Will show at once if it be true or no. 
At the first glance 'tis fair ! 

ANGELO. 

Most heavenly fair ! 

ISABELLA. 

Yet, in the lip, methinks, there lurks a shadow — 
Something — I know not what — but in it lies 
The devil you spoke of! 

ANGELO. 

Ay — but 'tis not there! 
Not in her lip ! Oh, no I Look elsewhere for it. 
'Tis passionately bright — hut lip more pure 
Ne'er passed unchallenged through the gate of heaven. 
Believe me, 'tis not there ! 

ISABELLA. 

How falls the light ? 



SCENE I."] THE USURER. 85 

I see a gleam not quite angelical 

About the eye. Maybe the light falls wrong — 

ANGELOj {drawing her to another 'position,) 
Stand here ! Dy'e see it now ? 

ISABELLA. 

'Tis just so here ! 
ANGELOj (sweeps the air with his brush,) 
There's some curst cobweb hanging from the waU 
That blurs your sight. Now, look again ! 

ISABELLA. 

I see it 

Just as before. 

^ ANGELO. 

What ! still 1 YouVe turn'd an eyelash 
Under the lid. Try how it feels with winking. 
Is't clear? 

ISABELLA. 

'Twas never clearer ! 

ANGELO. 

Then, old man ! 
You'd best betake you to your prayers apace ! 
For you've a failing sight, death's sure forerunner — 
And cannot pray long. Why, that eye's a star, 
Sky-lit as Hesperus, and burns as clear. 
If you e'er marked the zenith at high noon. 
Or midnight, when the blue lifts up to God — 
8 



86 TORTESA [act III. 

Her eye 's of that far darkness ! 

ISABELLA, {smiling aside.) 

Stajr — 'tis gone! 
A blur was on my sight, which, passing from it, 
I see as you do. Yes — the eye is clear. 
The forehead only, now I see so well. 
Has in its arch a mark infallible 
Of a false heart beneath it. 

ANGELO. 

Show it to me ! 

ISABELLA. 

Between the eyebrows there ! 

ANGELO. 

I see a tablet 
Whereon the Saviour's fingpr might have writ 
The new commandment. When I painted it 
I plucked a just-blown lotus from the shade, 
And shamed the white leaf till it seemed a spot — 
The brow was so much fairer ! Go ! old man, 
Thy sight fails fast. Go ! go ! 

ISABELLA. 

The nostril's small — 
Is'tnot? 

ANGELO. 

No! 



SCENE I.] THE USURER. 87 



ISABELLA. 



Then the cheek's awry so near it, 
It makes it seem so ! 



Out ! thou cavilling fool ! 
Thou'rt one of those whose own deformity- 
Makes all thou seest look monstrous. Go and pray 
For a clear sight, and read thy missal with it. 
Thou art a priest, and livest by the altar, 
Yet dost thou recognize God's imprest seal, 
Set on that glorious beauty ! 

ISABELLA, (aside.) 

(Oh, he loves me ! 
Loves me as genius loves — ransacking earth 
And ruffling the forbidden flowers of heaven 
To make celestial incense of his praise. 
High-thoughted Angelo ! He loves me well ! 
With what a gush of all my soul I thank him — 
But he's to win yet, and the time is precious.) 
(To Angelo.) Signor, I take my leave. 



Good day, old man 1 
And, if thou com'st again, bring new eyes with thee, 
Or thou wilt find scant welcome. 

ISABELLA. 

You shall like 



88 TORTESA [act III. 

These same eyes well enough when next I come ! 

ANGELO. 

A crabbed monk ! ( Turns ike picture to the wall again.) 

I'll hide this fatal picture 
From sight once more, for till he made me look on't 
I did not know my weakness. Once more, Zippa, 
I'll dwell on thy dear face, and with my pencil 
Make thee more fair than Ufe, and try to love thee I 

{A knock,) 
Come in! 

\_Enter Zippa.'] 

ZIPPA. 

Good day, Signor Angelo ! 

ANGELO. 

Why, Zippa! is't thou ? is't thou, indeed ! 

ZIPPA. 



Myself, dear Angelo I 

Art well ? 
Ay! 

Hast been well? 
Ay! 



ANGELO. 



ZIPPA. 



ANGELO. 



ZIPPA. 



SCENE l] the usurer. 89 

ANGELO. 

Then why, for three long days, hast thou not been near 
me? 

ZIPPA. 

Ask thyself, Signor Angelo ! 

ANGELO. 

I have — a hundred times since I saw thee. 

ZIPPA. 

And there was no answer ? 

ANGELO. 

None! 

ZIPPA. 

Then shouldst thou have ask'd the picture on thy easel ! 

ANGELO. 

Nay — I understand thee not. 

ZIPPA. 

Did I not find thee feasting thy eyes upon it? 

ANGELO. 

True— thou didst ? 

ZIPPA. 

And art thou not enamoured of it — wilt tell me truly ? 

ANGELO, (smiling,) 
'Tis a fair face ! 

ZIPPA. 

Oh, unkind Angelo ! 

8* 



90 TORTESA [act III. 

ANGELO. 

Look on't ! and, seeing its beauty, if thou dost not for- 
give me, I will never touch pencil to it more. 

ZIPPA. 

I'll neither look on't, nor forgive thee. But if thou 
wilt love the picture of another better than mine, thou 
shalt paint a new one ! 
(As she rushes up to dash it from the easel, Angela 

catches her arm, and points to the picture. She 

looks at it, and, seeing her own portrait, turns and 

falls on his bosom.) 

My picture ! and I thought thee so false 1 Dear, dear 
Angelo ! I could be grieved to have wronged thee, if joy 
would give me time. But thou'lt forgive me ? 

ANGELO. 

Willingly! Willingly! 

ZIPPA. 

And thou lovesl me indeed, indeed ! Nay, answer not ! 
I will never doubt thee more ! Dear Angelo! 
Yet— (Suddenly turns from Angelo with a troubled air.) 

ANGELO. 

What ails thee now ? 

(Zippa takes a rich veil from under her cloak, throws 
it over her head, and looks on the ground in embar- 
rassed silence.) 

Dost thou stand there for a picture of Silence ? 



# 



SCENE I."l T H E U S U R E R . 91 

ZIPPA. 

Alas ! dear Angelo ! When I said I forgave and lov'd 
thee, I forgot that I was to be married to-morrow 1 

ANGELO. 

Married ! to whom ? 

ZIPPA. 

Tortesa, the usurer! 

ANGELO, 

Tortesa, saidst thou ? 

ZIPPA. 

Think not ill of me, dear Angelo, till I have told thee 
all ! This rich usurer, as thou knowest, would for ambi- 
tion marry Isabella de Falcone. 

ANGELO. 

He would, I know. 

ZIPPA. 

But for love, he would marry your poor Zippa. 

ANGELO. 

Know you that ? 

ZIPPA. 

He told me so the day you anger'dme with the praises 
of the court lady you were painting. What was her 
name, Angelo ? 

ANGELO, (composedly.) 
I — I'll tell thee presently ! Go on ! 



92 TORTESA [act IfX. 

ZIPPA. 

Well — ^jealous of this unknown lady, I vow'd, if it 
broke my heart, to wed Tortesa. He had told me Isa- 
bella scorn'd him. I flew to her palace. She heard me, 
pilied me, agreed to plot with me that I might -wed the 
usurer, and then told me in confidence that there was a 
poor youth whom she loved and would fain marry. 

ANQELO, (in breathless anxiety.) 
Heard you his name ? 

ZIPPA. 

No ! But as I was to wed the richer and she the poor- 
er, she took my poor veil, and gave me her rich one. Now 
canst thou read the riddle ? 

ANGELo, (aside.) 
( A " poor youth !'' What if it is I ? She " loves and 
will wed him!" Oh! if it were I!) 

ZIPPA. 

Nay, dear Angelo ! be not so angry ! I do not love 
him ! Nay — thou knowst I do not ! 

ANGELO, (aside.) 
(It may be — nay — it must ! But I will know ! If not, 
I may as well die of that as of this jealous madness.) 
(Prepares to go out.) 

ZIPPA. 

Angelo ! where go you ? Forgive me, dear Angelo ! 
I swear to thee I love him not ! 



•# 



SCENE II.] THE USURER. 93 

ANGELO. 

I'll know who that poor youth is, or suspense will kill 
me! 

{Goes out hastily^ without a look at Zippa. She stands 
silent and amazed for a moment.) 

ZIPPA. 

Why cares he to know who that poor youth is ! " Sus- 
pense will kill him ?" Stay ! a light breaks on me ! If 
Isabella were the Court lady whom he painted ! If it 
were Angelo whom she loved ! He is a poor youth I — 
The picture ! The picture will tell all ! 
{Hurriedly turns round several pictures twined to the 
wall, and last of all^ Isabella's. Looks at it an in- 
stant^ and exclaims) 

Isabella ! 
{She drops on her knees ^ overcome with grief and the 
scene closes.) 



SCENE IL 

[J. Lady^s dressing-room in the Falcone Palace, Isa- 
bella discovered with two phials.'] 

ISABELLA. 

Here is a draught will still the breath so nearly, 
The keenest-eyed will think the sleeper dead,— 
And this kills quite. Lie ready, trusty friends. 



94 TORTESA [act 111. 

Close by my bridal veil ! I thought to baffle 
My ruffian bridegroom by an easier cheat; 
But Zippa's dangerous, and if 1 fail 
In mocking death, why death indeed be welcome ! 
{^Enter Zippa angrily. ) 

ZIPPA. 

Madam ! 

ISABELLA. 

You come rudely ! 

ZlPPA. 

If I offend you more, I still have cause — 

Yet as the " friend" to whom you gave a husband, 

(So kind you were!) I might come unannounced ! 

ISABELLA. 



What is this anger? 



Oh no ! I'm patient ! 



ZlPPA. 

I'm not angry, madam ! 



ISxVBELLA. 

What's your errand, then ? 

ZIPPA. 

To give you back your costly bridal veil 
And take my mean one. 

ISABELLA. 

'Twas your Avish to change. 
'Twas you that plotted we siiould wed together — 
You in my place, and I in yours — was't not ? 



SCENE II.] THE USURER. 95 

ZIPPA. 

Oh, heaven ! you're calm ! Had you no plotting, too? 
You're noble born, and so your face is marble — 
I'm poor, and if my heart aches, 'twill show through. 
You've robb'd me, madam ! 

ISABELLA. 

I? 

ZIPPA. 

Of gold — of jewels ! — 
Gold that would stretch the fancy but to dream of. 
And gems like stars ! 

ISABELLA.' 

You're mad ! 

ZIPPA. 

His love was worth them ! 
Oh, what had you to do with Angelo ? 

ISABELLA. 

Nay — came you not to wed Tortesa freely ? 
What should you do with Angelo? 

ZIPPA. 

You mock me ! 
You are a woman, though your brow's a rock, 
And know what love is. In a ring of fire 
The tortured scorpion stings himself, to die — 
But love will turn upon itself, and grow 
Of its own fang immortal ! 



96 TORTESA [act III. 



ISABELLA. 

Stilly you left him 



To wed another ? 



ZIPPA. 

'Tis for that he's mine ! 
What makes a right in any thing, but pain ? 
The diver's agony beneath the sea 
Makes the pearl his — pain gets the miser's gold — 
The noble's coronet, won first in battle, 
Is his by bleeding for't — and Angelo 
Is ten times mine because I gave him up — 
Crushing my heart to do so ! 

ISABELLA. 

Now you plead 
Against yourself. Say it would kill me quite, 
If you should wed him ? Mine's the greater pain, 
And so the fairer title ! 

ZIPPA, {falling on her knees.) 
I implore you 
Love him no more ! Upon my knees I do ! 
He's not like you ! Look on your snow-white arms ! 
They're form'd to press a noble to your breast — 
Not Angelo ! He's poor — and fit for mine ! 
You would not lift a beggar to your lips ! — 
You would not lean from your proud palace-stairs 
To pluck away a heart from a poor girl 
Who has no more on earth ! 



SCENE IL] THE USURER. 97 

ISABELLA. 

I will not answer ! 

ZIPPA. 

Think what it is 1 Love is to you like music — 
Pastime ! You think on't when the dance is o'er — 
When there's no revel — when your hair's unbound. 
And its bright jewels with the daylight pale — 
You want a lover to press on the hours 
That lag till night again 1 But I — 

ISABELLA. 

Stop there ! 
I love him better than you've soul to dream of ! 

ZIPPA, (rising.) 
'Tis false ! How can you ? He's to you a lamp 
That shines amid a thousand just as bright ! 
What's one amid your crowd of worshippers ? 
The glow-worm's bright — but oh ! 'tis wanton murder 
To raise him to the giddy air you breathe, 
And leave his mate in darkness ! 

ISABELLA. 

Say the worm 
Soar from the earth on his own wing — what then ? 

ZIPPA. 

Fair reasons cannot stay the heart from breaking. 
You've stol'n my life, and you can give it back ! 
Will you — for heaven's sweet pity ? 



98 TORTESA [act III. 

ISABELLA. 

Leave my presence ! 
(Aside.) (I pity her — but on this fatal love 
Hangs my life, too.) What right have such as you 
To look with eyes of love on Angelo ? 

ZIPPA. 

What right ? 

ISABELLA. 

I say so. Where's the miracle 
Has made you fit to climb into the sky — 
A moth — and look with love upon a star ! 

ZIPPA, (mournfully.) 
I'm lowly born, alas ! 

ISABELLA. 

Your souVs low born ! 
Forget your anger and come near me, Zippa, 
For e'er I'm done you'll wonder! Have you ever 
When Angelo was silent, mark'd his eye — 
How, of a sudden, as 'twere touch'd with fire 
There glows unnatural light beneath the lid ? 

ZIPPA. 

I have— I've thought it strange ! 

ISABELLA. 

Have you walk'd with him 
When he has turn'd his head, as if to list 
To music in the air— but you heard none 



SCENE II.] THE USURER. 99 

And presently a smile stole through his lips, 
And some low words, inaudible to you. 
Fell from him brokenly. 

ZIPPA, 

Ay— many times I 

ISABjELLA. 

Tell me once more ! Hast never heard him speak 
With voice unlike his own — so melancholy, 
And yet so sweet a voice, that, were it only 
The inarticulate moaning of a bird, 
The very tone of it had made you weep 7 

ZIPPA. 

'Tis strangely true, indeed ! 

ISABELLA. 

Oh heaven ! You say so — 
Yet never dreamt it was a spirit of light 
Familiar with you I 

ZIPPAo 

How 1 

ISABELLA. 

Why, there are seraphs 
Who walk this common world, and want, as we do — 
Here, in our streets— all seraph, save in wings — 
The look, the speech, the forehead like a god — 
And he the brightest ! 

ZIPPA, {incredulously.) 

Nay— I've known him long I 



100 TOKTESA [act III. 

ISABELLA. 

Why, listen ! There are worlds, thou doubting fool! 
Farther to flee to than the stars in heaven, 
Which Angelo can walk as we do this — 
And does—while you look on him ! 

ZIPPA. 

Angelo ! 

ISABELLA. 

He's never at your side one constant minute 
Without a thousand messengers from thence ! 
(O block! to live with him, and never dream on't !) 
He plucks the sun's rays open like a thread. 
And knows what stains the rose and not the lily — 
He never sees a flower but he can tell 
Its errand on the earth — (they all have errands — 
You knew not that, oh dulness !) He sees shapes 
Flush'd with immortal beauty in the clouds — 
(You've seen him mock a thousand on his canvass, 
And never wonder'd !) Yet you talk of love ! 
What love you ? 

ZIPPA. 

Angelo—and not a dream ! 
Take you the dream and give me Angelo 1 
You may talk of him till my brain is giddy — 
But oh, you cannot praise him out of reach 
Of my true heart. — He's here, as low as I ! — . 
Shall he not wed vl woman, flesh and blood 1 



SCENE II.] THE USURER. 101 

ISABELLA. 

See here ! There was a small, earth-creeping mole, 

Born by the low nest of an unfledged lark. 

They lived an April youth amid the grass — 

The soft mole happy, and the lark no less, 

And thought the bent sky leaned upon the flowers. 

By early May the fledgling got his wings ; 

And, eager for the light, one breezy dawn, 

Sprang from his nest, and buoyantly away. 

Fled forth to meet the morning. Newly born 

Seem'd the young lark, as in another world 

Of light, and song, and creatures like himself^ 

He soar'd and dropp'd, and sang unto the sun, 

And pitied every thing that had not wings— 

But most the mole, that wanted even eyes 

To see the light he floated in ! 

ZIPPA. 

Yet still 
She watch'd his nest, and fed him when he came — 
Would it were Angelo and I indeed ! 

ISABELLA. 

Nay, mark ! The bird grew lonely in the sky. 
There was no echo at the height he flew ! 
And when the mist lay heavy on his wings 
His song broke, and his flights were brief and low— -^ 
And the dull mole, that should have sorrowed with him, 
Joy'd that he sang at last where she could hear! 

9* 



102 TORTESA [act III- 

ZIPPA. 

Why, happy mole again ! 

ISABELLA. 

Not long ! — for soon 
He found a mate that loved him /or Ms wings ? 
One who with feebler flight, but eyes still on him, 
Caught up his dropp'd song in the middle air. 
And, with the echo, cheered him to the sun I 

ZIPPA, (aside.) 
(I see ! I see ! His soul was never mine ! 
I was the blind mole of her hateful story ! 
No, no ! he never loved me ! True, we ate, 
And laugh'd, and danced together — ^but no love — 
He never told his thought when he was sad ! 
His folly and his idleness were mine — 
No more ! The rest was lock'd up in his soul ! 
I feel my heart grow black !) Fair madam, thank you ! 
YouVe told me news ! (She shall not have him neither, 
If there's a plot in hate to keep him from her ! 
I must have room to think, and air to breathe — 
I choke here !) Madam, the blind mole takes leave ! 

ISABELLA. 

Farewell ! [Exit Zippa, 

(Takes the phial from the table.) 

And now, come forth, sweet comforter ! 
rU to my chamber with this drowsy poison, 



SCENE II.] THE USXTIIEII. 103 

And from my sleep I wake up Angelo's, 

Or wake no more I [Exit. 



END OF THE THIRD ACT. 



ACT IV. 

SCENE I. 

[Jl sumpt'uous Dra%Ding-room in the Falcone Palace, 
Guests assembled for the bridal. Lords and ladies 
^promenading^ and a band of musicians in a gallery 
at the side of the stage.'] 

1st. LORD. 

Are we before the hour ? or does the bridegroom 
Affect this tardiness ? 

2d. LORD. 

We're bid at twelve. 

1st. LORD. 

'Tis now past one. At least we should have music 
To wile the time. {To the musicians.) Strike up, good 
fellows ! 

2d. LORD. 

Why, 
A man who's only drest on holidays 
Makes a long toilet. Now, I'll warrant he 
Has vex'd his tailor since the break of day 
Hoping to look a gentleman. D'ye know him ? 



SCENE I.] TORTESA THE USURER. 105 

1st. LORD. 

I've never had occasion ! 

2d. LORD. 

Poor Falcone ! 
He'd give the best blood in his veins, I think, 
To say as much ! 

1st. LORD. 

How's this ! I see no stir 
Among the instruments. Will they not play ? 

2d, LORD. 

Not they ! I ask'd before you, and they're bid 
To strike up when they hear Tortesa's horses 
Prance thro' the gateway — not a note till then t 

(Music plays,) 

1st. LORD. 

He comes ! 

(Enter Tortesa^ dressed over-richly.) 

TORTESA. 

Good day, my lords ! 

1st. LORD. 

Good day ! 

2d. LORD. 

The sky 
Smiles on you, Signor 1 'Tis a happy omen 
They say, to wed in sunshine. 



106 TOKTESA [act IV. 

TORTESA. 

Why, I think 
The sun is not displeased that I should wed. 

1st. LORD. 

We're happy, Sir, to have you one of us. 

TORTESA. 

What have I been till noio ! I v^as a man 
Before I saw your faces ! Where's the change ? 
Have 1 a tail since ? Am I grown a monkey ? 

{Lords whisper together^ and walk from him.) 
Oh for a mint to coin the world again 
And melt the mark of gentleman from clowns ! 
It puts me out of patience ! Here's a fellow 
That, by much rubbing against better men, 
Has, like a penny in a Jew's close pocket, 
Stolen the color of a worthier coin. 
And thinks he rings like sterling courtesy ! 
Yet look! he cannot phrase you a good morrow, 
Or say he's sad, or glad, at any thing, 
But close beneath it, rank as verdigrease. 
Lies an insulting rudeness ! He was ^^ happy^^ 
That I should now be one of ihem. Now ! Now! 
As if, till now^ I'd been a dunghill grub. 
And was but just turn'd butterfly 1 

{A Lady advances,) 

LADY, 

Fair Sir, 
I must take leave to say, were you my brother, 



SCENE I.] THEirSURER. 107 

You've made the choice that would have pleas'd me best ! 
Your bride's as good as fair. 

TORTESA. 

I thank you. Madam ! 
To be your friend, she should be — good and fair ! 
( The Lady turns, and loalks up the stage.) 
How like a drop of oil upon the sea 
Falls the apt word of woman ! So ! her "brother !" 
Why, there could be no contumely there ! 
I might, for all I look, have been her brother, 
Else her first thought had never coupled us. 
1^11 pluck some self-contentment out of that ! 

(Enter suddenly the Counfs Secretary.) 
How now ! 

SECRETARY. 

I'm sent, Sir, with unwelcome tidings. 

TORTESA. 

Deliver them the quicker ! 

SECRETARY. 

I shall be 
Too sudden at the slowest. 

TORTESA. 

Pshaw! what is't? 
I'm not a girl ! Out with your news at once ! 
Are my ships lost ? 

SECRETARY, (hesitatingly.) 

The lady Isabella — 



L. 



108 TORTESA [act IV. 

TORTESA. 

What ? lun away ! 

SECRETARY. 

Alas, good Sir 1 she's dead I 

TORTESA. 

Bah ! just as dead as I ! Why. ihou dull blockhead ! 
Cannot a lady faint, but there must be 
A trumpeter like thee to make a tale on't ? 

SECRETARY. 

Pardon me, Signer, but — 

TORTESA. 

Who sent you hither ? 

SECRETARY. 

My lord the Count. 

TORTESA, {turning quickly aside.) 
He put it in the bond, 
That if by any humor of my own, 
Or accident that sprang not from himself 
Or from his daughter's loill^ the match were marr'd, 
His tenure stood intact. If she were dead — 
I don't believe she is — but if she were. 
By one of those strange chances that do happen — 
If she were dead, I say, the silly fish 
That swims with safety among hungry sharks 
To run upon the pin-hook of a boy, 
Might teach me wisdom ! 



Scene l] the x; site ee. 109 

(TVie Secretary comes for%oard^ narrating eagerly to 
the company.) 

Now, what says this jackdaw ? 

SECRETARY. 

She had refused to let her bridesmaids in— 

LADY. 

And died alone ? 

SECRETARY. 

A trusty serving maid 
Was with her, and none else. She dropp'd away. 
The girl said, in a kind of weary sleep. 

1st. LORD. 

Was no one told of it ? 

SECRETARY. 

The girl watch'd by her. 
And thought she slept still ; till, the music sounding, 
She shook her by the sleeve, but got no answer; 
And so the truth broke on her ! 

TORTESA, {aside,) 

(Oh indeed I 
The plot is something shallow ! ) 

2d. LORD. 



Might we go 



And see her as she lies ? 

10 



110 TORTESA ^ACT IV. 

SECRETARY. 

The holy father 
Who should have married her, has check 'd all comers. 
And staying for no shroud but bridal dress, 
He bears her presently to lie in state 
In the Falcone chapel. 

TORTESA. (aside.) 

(Worse and v^^orse— 
They take me for a fool !) 

1st. LORD. 

But why such haste ? 

SECRETARY. 

I know not. 

All. 
Let us to the chape] ! 

TORTESA. 

{Drawing his sword^ and stepping between them and 
the door.) 

Hold! 
Let no one try to pass ! 

1st. LORD. 

What mean you, Sir I 

TORTESA. 

To keep you here till you have got your story 
Pat to the tongue— the truth on't, and no more ! 

LADY. 

Have you a doubt the bride is dead, good Signor ? 



SCENE I.] THE USURER. Ill 

TORTESA. i 

A palace, see you, has a tricky air ! i 

When I am told a tradesman's daughter's dead, * 

I know the coffin holds an honest corse, • 
Sped, in sad earnest, to eternity. 

But were I stranger in the streets to-day, ; 

And heard that an amhitious usurer, \ 

With lands and money having bought a lady ^ \ 

High-born and fair, she died before the bridal, i 

I would lay odds with him that told me of it | 

She'd rise again — before the resurrection. \ 

So stand back all ! If Pm to fill to-day j 

The pricking ears of Florence with a lie, \ 

The bridal guests shall tell the tale so truly, ^ 

And mournfully, from eyesight of the corse,1 j 

That ev'n the shrewdest listener shall believe, \ 

And I myself have no misgiving of it. ; 

Look ! where they come ! I 

{Door opens to funereal music^ and the body of Isa- ^ 

bella is borne in^ preceded by a monk, and followed \ 

by Falcone and mourners, Tortesa confronts the \ 

Monk,) \ 

What's this you bear away ? \ 

MONK. ; 

Follow the funeral but stay it not. J 

\ 

TORTESA. \ 

If thereon lie the lady Isabella, j 
I ask to see her face before she pass ! 



112 TORTESA [act IV. 

MONK. 

Stand from the way, my son, it cannot be ! 

TORTESA. 

What right have you to take me for a stone 7 

See what you do ! I stand a bridegroom here. 

A moment since the joyous music playing 

Which promised me a fair and blushing bride. 

The flowers are fragrant, and the guests made w^elcome y 

And while my heart beats at the opening door, 

And eagerly I look to see her come, — 

There enters in her stead a covered corse ! 

And when I ask to look upon her face — 

One look, before my bride is gone for ever,— 

You find it in your hearts to say me nay ! — 

Shame \ Shame ! 

FALCONE, (fiercely.) 
Lead on ! 

TORTESA. 

My lord, by covenant — 
By contract writ and seal'd — by value rendered — 
By her own promise — nay, by all, save taking, 
This body's mine ! Fll have it set down here 
And wait my pleasure ! See it done, my lord, 
Or I will, for you 1 

MONK, (to the bearers,) 

Set the body down ! 
TORTESA, (takes the veil from the face,) 
Come hither all I Nay, father, look not black I 



SCENB II.] THE USURER. 113 

If o'er the azure temper of this blade 

There come no mist, when laid upon her lips, 

I'll do a penance for irreverencCj 

And fill your sack with penitential gold ! 

Look well ! 

{Puts Ms sicord blade to Isabella's lips^ and after 

watching it loith intense inter est a moment^ drops on 

his knees beside the bier.) 

She's dead indeed ! Lead on! 
( The procession starts again to funereal music^ and 
Tort es a follows last.) 



SCENE 11. 

[A Street in Florence, The funereal music dying 
away in the distance. Enter Zippa, straining her 
eyes to look after it.'] 

ZIPPA. 

'Tis Angelo that follows close behind. 

Laying his forehead almost on her bier ! 

His heart goes with her to the grave ! Oh Heaven ! 

Will not Tortesa pluck out of his Land 

The tassel of that pall ? 

( She hears a footstep.) 

Stay, stay, he's here! 

(Enter Tortesa, musing, Zippa stands aside,) 
10* 



114 TORIES A [act it. 

TORTESA. 

I've learned to-day a lord may be a Jew, 
I've learned to-day that grief may kill a lady i 
Which touches me the most I cannot say. 
For I could fight Falcone for my loss 
Or weep, with all my soul, for Isabella. 

(Zipjpa touches him on the shoulder.) 

ZIPPA. 

How is't the Signor follows not his bride ? 

TORTESA. 

I did — ^but with their melancholy step 
I fell to musing, and so dropp'd behind — 
But here's a sight I have not seen to-day ! 
( Tcifkes her hand smilingly.) 

ZIPPA. 

What's that? 

TORTESA, 

A friendly face, my honest Zippa I 
Art well? What errand brings thee forth? 

ZIPPA. 

None, Signor ! 
But passing by the funeral, I stopped, 
Wondering to see the bridegroom lag behind, 
And give his sacred station next the corse 
To an obtrusive stranger. 

TORTESA. 

Which is he? 



SCENE IT.] THE ITSURER. 115 

zippA , (points after Angela^) 
Look there I 

' TORTESA. 

His face is buried in his cloak< 
Whois't? 

ZiPPA. 

Not know himl Had I half the cause 
That you have, to see through that mumming cloak, 
The shadow of it would speak out his name ! 

TORTESA. 

What mean you? 

ZlPPA. 

Angelo ! What right has he 
To weep in public at her funeral? 

TORTESA, 

The painter ? 

ZIPPA. 

Ay— the peasant Angelo ! 
Was't not enough to dare to love her living, 
But he must fling the insult of his tears 
Betwixt her corse and you ? Are you not mov'd ? 
Will you not go and pluck him from your place ? 

TORTESA. 

No, Zippa! for my spirits are more apt 
To grief than anger. IVe in this half hour 
Remember'd much! should have thought on sooner,— 



116 TORTESA [act IV. 

For, had I known her heart was capable 

Of breaking for the love of one so low, 

I would have done as much to make her his 

As I have done, in hate, to make her mine. 

She lov'd him, Zippa ! ( Walks hack in thought) 

ZIPPA, {aside.) 
Oh to find a way 
To pluck that fatal beauty from his eyes 1 
'Tis twilight, and the lamp is lit above her, 
And Angelo will w^atch the night out there, 
Gazing with passionate worship on her face. 
But no ! he shall not ! 

TORTESA, (advancing,) 
Come ! what busy thought 
Vexes your brain now ? 

ZIPPA, 

Were your pride as quick 
As other men's to see an insult, Signor! 
I had been spared the telling of my thought, 

TORTESA. 

You put it sharply ! 

ZIPPA. 

Listen ! you are willing 
That there should follow, in your place of mourner, 
A youth, who, by the passion of his grief 
Shews to the world he's more bereaved than you ! 



SCENE II.] THE USURER. 117 

TORTESA. 

Humph ! well I 

ZIPPA. 

Still follows he without rebuke ; 
And in the chapel where she lies to-night, 
Her features bared to the funereal lamp, 
He'll, like a mourning bridegroom, keep his vigil. 
As if all Florence knew she was his own. 

TORTESA. 

Nay, nay ! he may keep vigil if he will ! 
The door is never lock'd upon the dead 
Till bell and mass consign them to the tomb 5 
And custom gives the privilege to all 
To enter in and pray — and so may he. 

ZIPPA. 

Then learn a secret which I fain had spared 
My lips the telling. Cluestion me not how. 
But I have chanced to learn, that Angelo, 
To-night, will steal the body from its bier ! 



To-night! What! Angelo! Nay, nay, good Zippa 

If he's enamoured of the corse, 'lis there — 

And he may watch it till its shape decay. 

And holy church will call it piety. 

But he who steals from consecrated ground. 

Dies, by the law of Florence. There's no e.id 

To answer in't. 



118 TORTESA [act IV. 

ZIPPA. 

You know Dot, Angelo ! 
You think not with what wild, delirious passion 
A painter thirsts to tear the veil from beauty. 
. He painted Isabella as a maid. 
Coy as a lily turning from the sun. 
Now she is dead, and, like a star that flew 
Flashing and hiding thro' some fleecy rack, 
But suddenly sits still in cloudless heavens, 
She slumbers fearless in his steadfast gaze, 
Peerless and unforbidding. G, to him 
She is no more your bride! A statue fairer 
Than ever rose enchanted from the stone, 
Lies in that dim-lit chapel, clad like life. 
Are you too slow to take my meaning yet? 
He cannot loose the silken boddice iliere! 
He cannot, ihere^ upon the marble breast 
Shower the dark locks from the golden comb ! 

TORTESA. 

Hold ! 

ZIPPA. 

Are you mov'd? Has he no end to compass 
In stealing her away from holy ground? 
Will you not lock your bride up from his touch? 

TORTESA. 

No more ! no more ! I thought not of all this ! 
Perchance it is not true. But twilight falls, 



SCENE III.] THE USURER. 119 

And I will home to doff this bridal gear, 
And, after, set a guard upon the corse. 
We'll walk together. Come! 

ziPPA, (aside.) 
(He shall not see her !) 

[Exeunt. 



SCENE III. 

[A Street in front of the Falcone Palace, Night. En- 
ter Isabella in her white bridal dress. She falters 
to her father^ s door, and drops exhausted.'] 

ISABELLA. 

My brain swims round ! I'll rest a little here ! 
The night's cold, chilly cold. Would I could reach 
The house of Angelo! Alas! I thought 
He would have kept one night of vigil near me, 
Thinking me dead. Bear up, good heart ! Alas ! 
I faint ! Where am I ? (Looks around.) 

'Tis my father's door. 
My undirected feet have brought me home — 
And I must in, or die ! (Knocks with a painful effort.) 
So ends my dream ! 

FALCONE, (from above.) 
Who's that would enter to a mourning house? 



120 TORTESA [act IV. 



ISABELLA. 

Your daughter ! 

FALCONE. 

Ha! what voice is that I hear'? 

ISABELLA. 

Poor Isabella's. 

FALCONE. 

Art thou come to tell me. 
That w^ith unnatural heart I killed my daughter ? 
Just Heaven ! thy retribution follov^s fast ! 
But oh, if holy and unnumbered masses 
Can give thee rest, perturb'd and restless spirit! 
Haunt thou a weeping penitent no more ! 
Depart ! I'll in, and pass the night in prayer! 
So shalt thou rest ! Depart ! 

{He closes the window^ and Isabella drops with her 
forehead to the mai'hle stair.) 

{Enter Tomaso^ with a bottle in his hand.) 

TOMASO. 

It's like the day after the deluge. Few stirring and no- 
body dry. I've been since twilight looking for somebo- 
dy that would drink. Not a beggar athirst in all Flo- 
rence ! I thought that, with a bottle in my band, I should 
be scented like a wild boar. I expected drunkards would 
have come up out of the ground — Uke worms in a show- 
er. When was /ever so difficult to find by a moisi friend ? 



SCENE III.] THE XTSTJREE. 121 

Two hundred ducats in good wine and no companion ! 
I'll look me up a dry dog. I'll teach him to tipple, and 
give up the fellowship of mankind 

ISABELLA, {faintly.) 
Signor ! 

TOMASO. 

Hey! What! 

ISABELLA. 

Help Signor ! 

TOMASO^ 

A woman ! Ehem ! {approaching her,) Would you 
take something to drink by any chance ? {Offers her the 
bottle*) No ? Perhaps you don't like to drink out of the 
bottle. 

ISABELLA. 

I perish of cold ! 

TOMASO. 

Stay ! Here's a cloak ! My master's out for the 
night, and you shall home with me. Come ! Perhaps 
when you get warmer, you'd like to drink a little. The 
wine's good ! {Assists her in rising^) By St. Gene- 
vieve, a soft hand ! Come ! I'll bring you where there's 
fire and a clean flagon. 

ISABELLA. 

To any shelter, Signor ! 



11 



122 TOETESA THE USURER. [acT IV. 

TOMASO. 

Shelter ! nay, a good house, and two hundred ducats 
in ripe wine. Steady now ! (This shall pass for a good 
action ! If my master smell a rat, I'll face him cut the 
woman's honest!) This way, now! Softly! That's 
well stepp'd ! Come ! 

{Goes out, assisting her to walk,) 



END OF THE FOURTH ACT. 



ACT V. 

SCENE I. 

[^Angelo^s Studio. A full-length jpictiire^ in a large 
frame^ stands on the floor against an easel, placed 
nearly in the centre of the room. Two curtains, so 
arranged as to cover the picture when drawn togeth- 
er, Angelo stands in an imploring attitude near 
the picture, his pencil and palette in his hands, ap- 
pealing to Isabella, who is partly turned from him 
in an attitude of refusal. The back wall of the 
room such as to form a natural ground for a pic- 
ture.'] 

ANGELO. 

Hear me, sweet ! 

ISABELLA. 

No, we'll keep a holiday, 

And waste the hours in love and idleness. 

You shall not paint to-day, dear Angelo ! 

ANGELp. 

But listen 1 



124 TOBTESA [act V. 

ISABELLA. 

Nay, I'm jealous of my picture ; 

For all you give to that is stoPn from me. 

I like not half a look that turns away 

Without an answer from the eyes it met ! 

I care not you should see my lips' bright color 

Yet wait not for the breath that floats between ! 

ANGELO. 

Wilt listen ? 

ISABELLA, 

Listen ? Yes ! a thousand years ! 
But there's a pencil in those restless fingers. 
Which you've a trick of touching to your lips — 
And while you talk, my hand would do as well ! 
And if it's the same tale you told before 
Of certain vigils you forgot to keep, 
Look deep into my eyes till it is done— ^ 
For, like the childen's Lady-in-the-well, 
I only hark because you're looking in I 
Will you talk thus to me % 

ANGELO. 

Come night I will ! 
But close upon thy voice, sweet Isabella ! 
A boding whisper sinks into mine ear 
Which tells of sudden parting ! If 'tis false,-^ 
We shall have still a lifetime for our love, 
But if 'tis true, oh think that, in my picture, 



SCENE I.] THE USURER. 125 

Will lie the footprint of an angel gone ! 
Let me but make it clearer ! 

ISABELLA, 

Now, by heaven ! 
I think thou lov'st the picture, and not me ! 
So different am I, that, did I think 
To lose thee presently, by death or parting. 
For thy least word, or look, or slightest motion — 
Nay, for so little breath as makes a sigh 
I would not take, to have it pass untreasured, 
The empire of a star ! 
( While she was uttering this reproach, Angela has 

looked at her with delight, and touched his ^portrait 

with a few rapid strokes,) 



ANGELO. 



My picture's done ! j 



( Throws his pencil to the ground.) 
Break, oh enchanted pencil ! thou wilt never 
On earth, again^ do miracle so fair ! 
Oh Isabella ! as the dusky ore 
Waits for the lightning's flash to turn to gold — 
As the dull vapor waits for Hesperus, 
Then falls in dew-drops, and reflects a star — 
So waited I that fire upon thy lips. 
To make my master-piece complete in beauty ! 

ISABELLA. 

This is ambition when I look'd for love, 

11* 



126 TOETESA [act V. 

The fancy flattering where the heart should murmur. 
I think you have no heart ! 

ANGELO. 

Your feet are on it ! 
The heart is ever lowly with the fortunes, 
Tho' the proud mind sits level with a king ! 
I gave you long ago both heart and soul, 
But only one has dared to speak to you ! 
Yetj if astonishment will cure the dumb. 
Give it a kiss — 

ISABELLA, (smiling.) 
Lo ! Where it speaks at last ! 
(A loud knock is heard.) 
Harkj Angelo! 

(He flies to the window, and looks out,) 

ANGELO. 

Tortesa with a guard ! 
Alas 1 that warning voice ! They've traced thee hither ! 
Lost! Lostl 

ISABELLA, (^Hastily drawing the curtain, and disappearing 
behind it.) 

No ! no ! defend thy picture only. 
And all is well yet ! 

ANGELO. 

Thee and it with life 1 
(Draws his sword^ and stands hefore the curtain in an atti- 
tude of defiance. Enter Tortesa^ with officers and guard.) 
What is your errand ? 



SCENE I.] THE USUREIl. 127 

TORTESA. 

I'm afraid, a sad one ! 
For, by your drawn sword and defying air. 
Your conscious thought foretells it. 

ANGELO. 

Why, — a blow — 
(You took one, Signer, when you last were here — 
If you've forgot it, well!)— -but, commonly, 
The giver of a blow needs have his sword 
Promptly in hand. You'll pardon me ! 

TORTESA. 

I do! 
For, if my fears are just, good Signer painter ! 
You've not a life to spare upon a quarrel I 
In brief, the corse of a most noble lady 
Was stol'n last night from holy sanctuary. 
I have a warrant here to search your house ; 
And, should the body not be found therein, 
I'm bid to see the picture of the lady — 
Whereon, (pray mark me !) if I find a trace 
Of charms fresh copied, more than may beseem 
The modest beauty of a living maid, 
I may arrest you on such evidence 
For instant trial ! 

ANGELO. 

Search my house and welcome! 
But, for my picture, tho' a moment's glance 



128 TORTESA [act V. 

Upon its pure and hallowed loveliness 
Would give the lie to your foul thought of me, 
It is the unseen virgin of my brain ! 
And as th' inviolate person of a maid 
Is sacred ev'n in presence of the law. 
My picture is my own — to bare or cover ! 
Look on it at your peril ! 

TORTESA, (^0 the guard.) 

Take his swprd. 
( The guards attack and disarm him.) 

ANGELO. 

Coward and villain 1 

( Tortesa parts the curtains loith his sioord^ and An- 
gela starts amazed to see Isabella, with her hands 
crossed on her breast, and her eyes fixed on the ground^ 
standing motionless in the frame which had contain- 
ed his picture. The tableau deceives Tortesa^ who 
steps back to contemplate lohat he supposes to be 
the portrait of his bride.) 

TORTESA. 

Admirable work! 
'Tis Isabella's self! Why, this is wondrous !. 
The brow, the lip, the countenance — how true ! 
I would have sworn that gloss upon the hair, 
That shadow from the lash, were nature's own — 
Impossible to copy ! {Looks at it a moment in silence.) 

Yet methinks 
The color on the cheek is something faint !, 



SCENE I.] THE USURER. 129 

ANGELO, {hurriedly,) 
Step this way farther ! 
TORTESA, (changing Ms 'position.) 
Ay — 'tis better here ! 
The hand is not as white as Isabella's — 
But painted to the Hfe I If there's a feature 
That I would touch again, the lip, to me. 
Seems wanting in a certain scornfulness 
Native to her ! It scarcely marr'd her beauty. 
Perhaps 'tis well slurr'd over in a picture ! 
Yet stay ! I see it, now I look again! 
How excellently well ! 

{Guards return from searching the house.) 
What ! found you nothing ? 

SOLDIER, (holding up Isabella's veil.) 
This bridal veil— no morCc 

ANGELO, (despairingly.) 
Oh ! luckless star ! 

TORTESA, 

Signor ! you'll trust me when I say I'm sorry 
With all my soul ! This veil, I know it well- 
Was o'er the face of that unhappy lady 
When laid in sanctuary. You are silent ! 
Perhaps you scorn to satisfy me here ! 
I trust you can — in your extremity ! 
But I must bring you to the Duke ! Lead on ! 



130 TORTESA [act V. 

ANGELO. 

An instant ! 

TORTESAj (courteously^) 
At your pleasure ! 

ANGELOj (to Isabella, as lie passes close to her,) 
I conjure you. 
By all our love, stir not ! 

ISABELLA, (still moHoTiless.) 
Farewell ! 

(Toriesa motions for Angelo to precede Mm with the guard, 
looks once more at the picture, and with a gesture expres- 
sive of admiration, follows. As the door closes^ Isabella 
steps from the frame,) 

ISABELLA. 

ni Mow 
Close on thy steps^ beloved Angelo ! 
And find a way to bring thee hopae again ! 
My heart is light, and hope speaks cheerily 1 
And lo ! bright augury ! — a friar's hood 
For my disguise ! Was ever omen fairer 1 
Thanks ! my propitious star ! 

(Enveloipes herself in the hood, and goes out hastily,) 



SCENE II.] THE USTJEER. 131 

SCENE 11. 

{A Street, Enter Tomaso, with his hat crushed andjpulled 
sulkily over his eyes, his clothes dirty on one side, and 
other marks of having slept in the street. Enter Zippa 
from the other side, meeting him,'] 

ZIPPA. 

Tomaso ! Is't thou ? Whereas Angelo ? 

TOMASO. 

It is I, and I don't know ! 

ZIPPA. 

Did he come home last night 1 

TOMASO. 

" Did he come home !" Look there I (^Pulls off his hat^ 
and shews his dirty side.') 

ZIPPA. 

Then thou hast slept in the street ! 

TOMASO. 

Ay! 

ZIPPA. 

And what has that to do with the coming home of An- 
gelo? 

TOMASO. 

What had thy father to do with thy having such a nose 
as his ? 



132 TOKTESA [act V. 

(Zippa holds up a ducat to him.) 
What ! gave thy mother a ducat 1 — cheap as dirt ! 

ZIFPA. 

Blockhead, no ! I'll give thee the ducat if thou wilt tell 
me, straight on, what thou know'st of Angelo ! 

TOMASO. 

I will — and thou shalt see how charity is rewarded. 

ZIPPA. 

Begin ! — begin 1 

TOMASO. 

Last nightj having pray'd later than usual at vespers 

ZIPPA. 

EhemI 

TOMASO. 

I was coming home in a pious frame of mind — 

ZIPPA. 

And a bottle in thy pocket. 

TOMASO, 

No! — m my hand. What should I stumble over— — 

ZIPPA. 

But a stone. 

TOMASO. 

A woman I 



SCENE II.] THE tJSTJIlEIl. 133 

ZIPPA. 

Fie ! what's this you're going to tell me? 

TOMASO. 

She was dying with cold. Full of Christian charity — 

ZIPPA. 

—And new wine. 

TOMASO. 

Old wine, Zippa ! The wine was old ! 

ZIPPA. 

WeU! 

TOMASO. 

I took her home. 

ZIPPA. 

Shame! — at thy years ? 

TOMASO. 

And Angelo being out for the night 

ZIPPA. 

There ! there 1 you may skip the particulars. 

TOMASO. 

I say my own bed being in the garret 

ZIPPA. 

Weil, well! 

TOMASO. 

I put her into Angelo's. 

12 



134 TORTESA [act V. 

ZIPPA. 

Ohj unspeakable impudence ! Didst ihou do that ? 

TOMASO. 

I had just left her to make a wine posset, (for she was 
well nigh dead), when in popped my master, — finds her 
there — asks no questions, — kicks me into the street, and 
locks the door ! There's the reward of virtue ! 

ZIPPA. 

Did he not turn out the wcman, too ? 

TOMASO. 

Not as I remember. 

ZIPPA. 

Oh worse and worse ! And thou hast not seen him 
since ? 

TOMASO. 

I found me a soft stone, [^said my prayers, and went 
to sleep. 

ZIPPA. 

And hast thou not seen him to-day? 

TOMASO. 

Partly, I have ! 

ZIPPA. 

Where ? Tell me quickly ! 

TOMASO. 

Give me the ducat. 



SCENE II.] THE USURER. 135 

ZIPPA, {gives it him,) 
Quick ! say on i 

TOMASO. 

I have a loose recollection, that, lying on that stone, 
Angelo called me by name. Looking up, I saw two 
Angelos, and two Tortesas, and soldiers with two 
spears each. (He figures in the air with Ms finger as if 
trying to rememher,) 

ZIPPA, (aside.) 
(Ha ! he is apprehended for the murder of Isabella ! 
Say that my evidence might save his life ! Not unless 
he love me !) Which way went he, Tomaso? 
( Tomaso points,) 
This way? (Then has he gone to be tried before the 
Duke.) Come with me, Tomaso! Come. 

TOMASO. 

Where ? 

ZIPPA. 

To the Duke's palace ! Come ! ( Takes his arm,) 

TOMASO. 

To the Duke's palace ? There'll be kicking of heels in 
the ante-chamber ! — Dry work ! I'll spend thy ducat as 
we go along. Shall it be old wine, or new ? 

\^ExeunU 



13$ TOETESA [act Vc 

SCENE III. 

\HaTl of Judgment in the Ducal Palace. The Duke wpon 
a raised throne on the left. Falcone near his chair, and 
Angelo on the opposite side of the stage with a guard. 
Isabella hehindlthe guard, disguised as a monk. Torte- 
sa stands near the centre of the stage, and Zippa and 
Tomaso in the left corner^ listening eagerly. Counsellors 
at a table, and crowd of spectators at the sides and rear.l^ 

DUKE, 

Are there more witnesses ? 

COUNSELLOR. 

No more, my liege ! 

DUKE. 

None for the prisoner ? 

COUNSELLOR. 

He makes no defence 
Beyond a firm denial. 

FALCONE. 

Is there wanting 
Another proof, my liege, that he is guilty ? 

DUKE. 

I fear he stands in deadly peril, Count, 
( To the Counsellor.) Sum up the evidence. 
(He reads.) 



SCENE III.] THE USTJKER. 137 

COUNSELLOR. 

'Tis proved, my liege. 
That for no honest or sufficient end, 
The pris'ner practised on your noble Grace 
And Count Falcone a contriv'd deceitj 
Whereby he gain'd admittance to the lady. 

(JTomaso exhibits signs of alarm,) 



PUKE. 



Most true ! 



COUNSELLOR. 

That, till the eve before her death, 
He had continual access to the palace ; 
And, having grown enamoured of the bride, 
Essay'd by plots that never were matured, 
And quarrels often forced on her betrothed, 
To stay the bridal. That, against the will 
Of her most noble father and the Duke, 
The bride was resolute to keep her troth ; 
And so, preparing for the ceremony. 
Upon her bridal morning was found dead. 
'Tis proved again — that, while she lay in state, 
The guard, at several periods of the night, 
Did force the pris'ner from the chapel door; 
And when the corse was stoPn from sanctuary 
All search was vain, till, in the pris'ner's hands 
Was found the veil that shrouded her. To these 
And lighter proofs of sacrilege and murder 

12* 



138 TOETESA [act V. 

The prisoner has opposed his firm denial 

No more ! 

DUKE. 

Does no one speak in his behalf? 

TORTESA. 

My liege ! so far as turns the evidence 
Upon the prisoner's quarrels with myself, 
I'm free to say that they had such occasion 
As any day may rise 'twixt men of honor. 
As one of those aggriev'd by his offences, 
You'll wonder I'm a suitor for his pardon — 
But so I am ! Besides that there is room 
To hope him innocent, your Grace's realm 
Holds not so wondrous and so rare a painter ! 
If he has kill'd the lady Isabella, 
'Tis some amends that in his glorious picture 
She's made immortal 1 If he stole her corse, 
He can return, for that disfigured dust. 
An Isabella fresh in changeless beauty ! 
Were it not well to pardon him, my Lord ? 

ISABELLA, (aside,) 
Oh brave Tortesa! 

DUKE. 

You have pleaded kindly 
And eloquently, Signor ! but the law 
Can recognize no gift as plea for pardon. 
For his rare picture he will have his fame 5 



SCENE III.] THE USURER. 139 

But if the Isabella he has painted 
Find not a voice to tell his innocence. 
He dies at sunset! 

ISABELLA, (despairingly.) 
He is dead to me I 
Yet he shall live ! 

(She drops the cowl from her shoulder s^ and with her arms 
folded, walks slowly to the feet of the Duke,) 

FALCONE, (rushing forward.) 
My daughter ! 
ANGELO, (with a gesture of agony.) 
Lost! 

TORTESA. 

Alive I 
zippA, (energetically.) 
Tortesa '11 have her ! 

(Isabella retires to the back of the stage with her fa- 
ther, and kneels to him, imploring in dumb show ; 
the Duke and others watching. ) 
TORTESA, (aside.) 

So ! all's right again? 

Now for my lands, or Isabella ? Stay ! 

'Tis a brave girl, by Heaven ! 

(Reflects a moment.) 

A sleeping draught, 
And so to Angelo ! Her love for me 



140 T O R T E S A [act V. 

A counterfeit to take suspicion off! 

It was well done ! I feel my heart warm to her ! 

{Reflects again.) 
Where could he hide her from our search to-day ? 

(Looks round at Isabella.) 
No ? Yet the dress is hke ! It was the picture ! 
Herself — and not a picture ! Now, by Heaven, 
A girl like that should be the wife of Caesar ! 
(Presses his hand upon his heart.) 
I've a new feeling here ! 

(^Falcone comes forward^ foUoioed by Isabella with 
gestures of supplication,) 

FALCONE, 

I w^ill not hear you ! 
My liege, I pray you keep the prisoner 
In durance till my daughter's fairly wed. 
He has contrived against our peace and honor, 
And howsoe'er this marvel be made clear, 
Shs stands betroth'd, if he is in the mind, 
To the brave Signor, yonder ! 



DUKE. 

This were well— 



What says Tortesa? 



TORTESA. 

If my liege permit^ 
I will address my answer to this lady. 



SCENE ni.] THE USURER. HI 

( Turns to Isabella.) 
For reasons which I need not give you now, 
Fair Isabella ! I became your suitor. 
My motives were unworthy you and me — 
Yet I was true — I never said I lov'd you ! 
Your father sold you me for lands and money — 
(Pardon me, Duke ! And you, fair Isabella ! 
You will — ere I am done !) I push'd my suit 1 
The bridal day came on, and clos'd in mourning; 
For the fair bride it dawn'd upon was dead. 
I had my shame and losses to remember — 
But in my heart sat sorrow uppermost, 
And pity — for I thought your heart was broken. 
{Isabella begins to discover interest in Ms story ^ and 

Angelo watches her with jealous eagerness,) 
I see you here again ! You are my bride ! 
Your father holds me to my bargain for you ! 
The lights are burning on the nuptial altar — 
The bridal chamber and the feast, all ready ! 

What stays the marriage now ? my new-born love ! 

That nuptial feast were fruit from Paradise — 
I cannot touch it till you bid me welcome ! 

That nuptial chamber were the lap of Heaven 

I cannot enter till you call me in ! 

{Takes a ring from his bosom.) 
Here is the golden ring you should have worn. 
Tell me to give it to my rival there — 
ril break my heart to do so ! {Holds it toward Angelo.) 



142 TORIES A [act V. 

ISABELLA, (looking at her father.) 
Would I might 1 

TORTESA, 

You shall, if't please you ! 

FALCONE. 

I command thee, never ! 
My liege, permit me to take home my daughter! 
And, Signor, you — if you would keep your troth — 
To-morrow come, and end this halting bridal ! 
Home 1 Isabella ! ( Takes his daughter's hand.) 

TORTESA, (taking it fromhim.) 
Stay ! she is not your'sl 
My gracious liege, there is a law in Florence, 
That if a father, for no guilt or shame. 
Disown, and shut his door upon his daughter, 
She is the child of him who succors her; 
Who, by the shelter of a single night, 
Becomes endowed with the authority 
Lost by the other. Is't not so? 

DUKE. 

So runs 
The law of Florence, and I see your drift — 
For, look my lord ! (to Falcone^) if that dread apparition 
You saw last night, was this your living daughter, 
You stand within the peril of that law. 

FALCONE. 

My liege ! 



SCENE III.] THE XTSITRER. 143 

ISABELLA, {looking admiringly atTortesa.) 

Oh noble Signor ! 

TOKTESA, {to Isabella.) 

Was't well done ? 
Shall I give Angelo the ring 1 

{As she is about to take it from him, Tomaso steps in 
behind, and pulls Isabella by the sleeve.) 

TOMASO. 

Stay there ! 
What wilt thou do for dowry ? I'm thy father ? 
But — save some flasks of wine — 

iSABELLAj {sorrowfully.) 

Would I were richer 
For thy sake, Angelo ! 

{Tortesa looks at her an instant, and then steps to the 
table and writes.) 

ANGELOj {coming forward with an effort.) 
Lookj Isabella ! 
I stand between thee and a life of sunshine. 
Thou wert both rich and honor'd, but for me! 
That thou couldst wed me, beggar as I am, 
Is bliss to think on — but see how I rob thee ! 
I have a loving heart — but am a beggar ! 
There is a loving heart— - 

{Points to Tortesa.) 

With wealth and honor ! 



144 T R T E S A t ACT V. 

(^Tortesa steps between them, and hands a paper to 
Angelo.) 

TORTESA, (to Isabella.) 
Say thou wilt wed the poorer? 
ISABELLA, (offers her hand to Angelo,) 

So I wiU ! 

TORTESA. 

Then am I blest, for he's as rich as I— 
Yet, in his genius, has one jewel more 1 

ISABELLA. 

What sayst thou 7 

(Angelo reads earnestly.) 

TORTESA. 

In a mortal quarrel, lady 1 
'Tis thought ilUuck to have the better sword; 
For the good angels, who look sorrowing on. 
In heavenly pity take the weaker side ! 

ISABELLA* 

What is it, Angelo ? 

ANGELO. 

A deed to me 
Of the Falcone palaces and lands, 
And all the moneys forfeit by your father !— 
By Heaven, I'll not be mock'd I 



m 



♦ 



SCENE III.] THE USUREE. 145 

TORTESA. 

The deed is yours — 
What mockery in that ? 

ISABELLA, {tenderly to Tories a,) 
It is not kind 
To make refusal of your love a pain ! 

TORTESA. 

I would 'twould kill you to refuse me, lady ! 
So should the blood plead for me at your heart ! 
Shall I give up the ring 1 {offers it) 

ISABELLA, {hesitatingly.) 

Let me look on it ! 
TORTESA, {withdrawing it) 
A moment yet ! You'll give it ere you think ! 
Oh is it fair that Angelo had days^ 
To tell his love, and I have not one hour ? 
How know you that I cannot love as well ? 



'Tis possible ! 



My heart to him ! 



ISABELLA. 
TORTESA. 

Ah ! thanks ! 

ISABELLA. 

But I have given 
13 



146 T O R t E S A [act V. 

TORTESA. 

You gave your troth to me ! 
If, of these two gifts you must take back one, 
Rob not the poorer ! Shall I keep the ring ? 
{Isabella looks down.) 

ANGELO. 

She hesitates ! I've waited here too long ! 

( Tears the deed in two.) 
Perish your gift, and farewell Isabella! 

ISABELLA, (advancing a step with clasped hands,) 
You'll kill me, Angelo ! Come back ! 

TORTESA, {seizing him by the hand as he hesitates^ 
andjiinging him back with a strong effort.) 

He shall ! 

ANGELO. 

Stand from my path ! Or, if you care to try 
Some other weapon than a glozing tongue, 
Follow me forth where we may find the room ! 

TORTESA. 

You shall not go. 

ANGELO, (draws.) 
Have at thee then ! 
(Attacks Tortesa, who disarms him^ and holds his 
sword-point to his breast. Duke and others come 
forward.) 



SCENE III,] THE USITIIER. 147 

TORTESA. 

4 The bar . 

'Twixt me and heaven, boy ! is the life I hold 
Now at my mercy ! Take it, Isabella ! 
And with it the poor gift he threw away ! 
I'll write a new deed ere you've time to marry, 
So take your troth back with your bridal ring, 
And thus I join you ! 

( Takes Isabella's hand, but Angela refuses his,) 

ANGELo, (proudly.) 
Never ! But for me, 
The hand you hold were joyfully your own ! 
Shall I receive a life and fortune from you, 
Yet stand 'twixt you and that ? 

ISABELLA, {turning from Angelo,) 

Thou dost not love me ! 

TORTESA. 

Believe it not ! He does ! An instant more 
m brush this new-spun cobweb from his eyes. 

( Crosses to Zippa,) 
Fair Zippa ! in this cross'd and tangled world 
Few wed the one they could have lov'd the best, 
And fewer still wed well for happiness ! 
We each have lost to-day what best we love. 
But as the drops that mingled in the sky, 
Are torn apart in the tempestuous sea. 
Yet with a new drop tremble into one, 



':W 



148 TORTESA [act V. 

We two, if you're content, may swim together ! 
What say you? 

zippA, (giving her hand.) 
I have thought on it before. 
When I believed you cold and treacherous. 
Tis easy when I know you kind and noble. 

TORTESA. 

To-morrow then we'll wed 5 and now, fair Signor, 

(To Angela,) 
Take you her hand, nor fear to rob Tortesa ! 

( Turns to the Duke.) 
Shall it be so, my liege ? 

DUKE. 

You please me well. 
And if you'll join your marriage feasts together 
I'll play my part, and give the brides away ! 

TORTESA. 

Not so, my liege ! I could not see her wed him. 
To give her to him has been all I could ; 
For I have sought her with the dearest pulses 
That quicken in my heart, my love and scorn. 
She 's taught me that the high-born may be true. 
I thank her for it — but, too close on that 
FoUow'd the love, whose lightning flash of honor 
Brightens, but straight is dark again ! My liege, 
The poor who leap up to the stars for duty 
Must drop to earth again ! and here, iPt please you, 



SCENE III.] THE USURER. 149 

I take my feet forever from your palace, 
Andj match'd as best beseems me, say farewell. 
( Takes Zippa^s hand, and the curtain drops,) 



THE END. 



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